


Edges of Morality

by Bad_Wolf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, NSFW, NSFW later on, Slow Burn, Torture, angst???, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9576245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Wolf/pseuds/Bad_Wolf
Summary: Keyade is so Smart.Yuuri grimaces when he steps outside, realizing something is wrong. The avians are flying in erratic and unusual patterns, some aren’t flying at all.Yuuri approaches the knot of five avians huddled at the edge of the silvery net that keeps them from escaping.“What are you doing? What’s going on?”Otabek stood up, holding the lighter in his hand, it’s going at full blast, revealing a hole in the netting. Yuuri feels faint and for a brief moment he realizes that there’s no alarm blaring and that the avians are trying to escape today and not in two fucking weeks.That brief moment is shattered by a blow to his back, sending Yuuri to his knees, shoulders aching and vision blurring. He looks up, meeting Victor’s eyes, who is absolutely about to kill him.“Your grave.” said Victor triumphantly, and Yuuri can’t look away from the hatred carved deep into Victor’s face. "Just like I promised."That’s when the sirens start and chaos descends.I'm on tumblr!Me





	1. Lucky, Lucky You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively Titled: Victor has a Bad Day.

“There’s a new one coming in,” said Phichit, his voice distorted through the intercom, “Hurry up!” The intercom crackled off and Yuuri groaned, when the young avian snatched its arm back from the access hatch, shoulders shaking. The other avians were now restless too, shifting and murmuring amongst themselves, pacing their small cages. Fuming, Yuuri packed his supplies.

“I’ll come back later,” murmured Yuuri this made the young avian puff up even more, but it kept quiet. He strode across the large room, skirting around the small individual cages to the access hatch. The holding tunnel was freezing, Yuuri puffed out air through his cheeks and sighed in relief when Phichit opened the door to the main hallway. Yuuri debated whether he should open the individual cages, but quickly dismissed the idea, the new capture would arrive soon so there was no point in opening the small holding cages now. His little group could stretch later, once the new avian was processed, he’d allow everyone to stretch before dinner.

Phichit waited for him in the office attached to this section of the lab, he had a metal cart piled high with supplies. “Oh good! I thought something horrible had happened!”

Yuuri snorted and deposited his little tote of supplies on a desk, “What’s all that stuff?” He waved at the metal cart, “Is that... Is that a mass spectrometer? How’d you get that out of storage?”

“I have a silver tongue and I’m incredibly cute,” replied Phichit cheekily, “Now come on! This is the msot exciting thing that’s happened today!”

“I told you working here was boring,” said Yuuri, picking up a few supplies he would need to deal with the new capture, “And you were nervous,” he teased, “but your first day here’s pretty much what I deal with every day.” They left the office, Phichit leaving his metal cart behind at Yuuri’s insistence, they walked towards the intake areas.

Phichit looked thoughtful, “Is this all you _really_ do? Tell me the truth, Yuuri dearest.”

“Why would I lie?” asked Yuuri, bewildered by Phichit’s questions, “What— You thought that all of those rumors about this prison were true?”

“You told me you never leave your section though, so how would you even know.” Phichit’s words were sharp, but Yuuri only shrugged, unconcerned.

“I’ve been to holiday parties with these people, they might be hardasses but they’re not cruel. Never that.”

“I suppose,” said Phichit, but he wasn’t convinced, he fell behind at the juncture of a hallway and peeked through a door that was stamped with a dark grey 2.

“Hey, come on! The handlers get nervous.” Once Phichit caught up, Yuuri asked, “So what info do we have on the new one?”

The file in Phichit’s hands was thick, he flipped it open to the quick rundown. “Nothing out of the ordinary. There _is_ a red warning that this one will cause you trouble, it’s a talker. Imitates higher intelligence of humans.” Phichit spat the last sentence out. “Imitates. Can you _believe_ that?”

“I can,” said Yuuri absently, “Some of them seem almost... Human, I guess. It’s a bit creepy, to be honest.”

“Whatever,” muttered Phichit. They stopped in front of the intake room.

“Ready?”

“Let’s do this,” said Phichit grimly.

It was a beautiful specimen, silvery wings matching its pale, white hair. The handlers struggled to strip it of the rest of its clothes, there was blood and several bruises decorating its pale skin. Feathers floated in the air, blood speckled the avian’s left wing. “Get it under control,” snarled Yuuri at the handlers. The avian bucked and slugged one of the handlers. Yuuri rushed into the room, but Phichit remained by the locked door, eyes wide.

Usually the avians screamed and pleaded while they fought, unable to understand their situation, but this one was silent, mouth twisted into a sharp snarl, rough breaths hissing through its teeth. Finally the handlers knocked it to the ground, leaning all their weight on its torso and wings, Yuuri managed to get a closer look at its injury and was relieved to see it was superficial. He injected a sedative into the creature’s arm and immediately lost all its strength, it twisted its neck around to give Yuuri one last searing glare before succumbing to the drugs. Sympathetic, Yuuri patted its head, “Don’t worry. You’re going to be okay.” The avian gave one last shudder before lying still on the cold floor, half naked and injured.

Yuuri thanked the handlers as they lifted and dumped the avian onto a metal table, its head hanging at an uncomfortable angle, Yuuri straightened it and turned to Phichit.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I...” Phichit looked at the handlers and swallowed, “Sure—that was...Yeah.”

Yuuri snorted and followed the handlers as they wheeled the new capture out of the intake room. “Don’t worry about it, almost every one freezes with their first encounter. They’re impressive to look at, but definitely intimidating.” The hallway lights were bright in Phichit’s eyes and he blinked rapidly.

“Yeah, I was scared.”

“As you should be,” said a gravelly voice behind them. Both Yuuri and Phichit whirled, coming face to face with the Avian Detention Center’s primary director, Yakov Feltsman.

“Hello sir,” said Yuuri cheerfully.

“Katsuki,” said Yakov, a smile flickering across his features briefly before turning to regard Phichit, “So how’s your first day Mr. Chulanont?”

“Fine sir,” said Phichit, feeling his heart stutter while under Yakov’s scrutiny, “Quiet up until five minutes ago.”

Yakov grunted. “The new creature?”

“Yes sir, it’s so beautiful!” gushed Yuuri, “A young adult, if I remember correctly. Thank you for assigning it to me.” Phichit remained silent, looking at the ground.

“Yes, I thought you’d appreciate a new bird for your collection, but... it _does_ come at a price, I’m afraid.”

“Ten,” sighed Yuuri, running his fingers through his hair. Yakov nodded.

“The limits are firm. But don’t rush your decision, think it over carefully.” Yakov spoke with Yuuri but observed Phichit.

“Who will get the transfer then?”

“R&D,” said Yakov absently, “The paperwork should be in your inbox by now. They’re anxious to get a new subject. Also, the reason I came to find you was to inform you that Morooka isn’t coming back for a few weeks, he’s been held up.”

“Why?” asked Yuuri thoughtlessly, and then blushed at the amused look from Yakov. “Uh, sorry sir. I keep forgetting about the regulations.”

“Loose lips,” said Yakov tartly, “Make sure you remember that when you’re out in public. Both of you.”

“Yes sir! But... who’s going to be lead researcher until—“

“You are,” said Yakov instantly, “Do not give me that look Katsuki. I know you haven’t been here long but you’ve got section 1 running like a clock.”

Yuuri paled and then turned very red. Yakov wasn’t only giving him full reign of section 1, he was complimenting Yuuri indirectly. And from a man like Yakov, compliments were rare. “Sir— I’m not sure what to say. I won’t let you down.”

“Of course you won’t,” said Yakov tersely, “But this means that Chulanont can’t hide behind your coattails anymore. I recommend you go to section 3 with R&D.”

“But—“ said Phichit, casting a pleading glance to Yuuri.

“Phichit—“ hissed Yuuri.

“I... of course. How could I say no.”

“You can’t. Now, I know this is all brand new, so if there are any questions come ask me before you decide to ahem, wing it.”

“Yakov,” groaned Yuuri, “Please. It’s too early for your puns.”

One last tiny smile for Yuuri and Yakov turns away, catching another employee to talk with them.

“I wonder why you have to deal with section 1 by yourself, but I have to be shifted over to R&D.”

“Oh Phichit, don’t worry about it, you’ll learn so much! And then we can collaborate on taking care of the avians! It will be great!”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” insisted Phichit and Yuuri flushed, a little put out by his best friend’s insistence.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure Yakov will get me assistants quickly, it’s just difficult to find people to fill positions after that horrible accident a few months ago.”

“The what-a what?” asked Phichit, now looking intrigued.

“That accident,” said Yuuri, hurrying to catch up with the handlers, “It was on the news, Phi. It was a whole scandal because they never said what caused it or who the victims were. Remember? There was a whole ‘government transparency issue’ thing.”

“Vaguely,” said Phichit, quickly losing interest when they entered the room with the new capture and started to work. “Seems irrelevant now.”

“Well it’s the only reason we’re getting so much leeway with the avians now. You think other new grads have full time positions like this?”

“Sure,” said Phichit absently, “All hail the president or whatever.”

“Phi—“ Yuuri shook his head and waved the handlers out of the room, with the avian knocked out it wasn’t a danger to anyone. “Let’s just get to work.”

They stripped the creature of its clothes and dressed it in a knee-length green jumpsuit that didn’t stretch. They went through the routine dance of a physical with the addition of taking wing and scale samples. Once they were done, Yuuri clipped a small metal earring onto the avian: V27. they called the handlers back in and they wrapped thin rubber bands around Victor’s torso and wings, to prevent any mishaps.

The rest of the day passed by quickly because of a huge staff meeting that kept them occupied with paperwork. Yuuri fidgeted the whole time, restless and bored the entire time. Phichit sympathized with his best friend, Yuuri had never been one to sit for long periods of time. He was happiest doing something.

The train-ride back home was full of tired commuters, so they leaned on one another and ordered food to be delivered by the time they made it home.

  **.**

Their apartment was cool and Phichit made a beeline for the couch, letting Yuuri claim the shower first. He closed his eyes, still feeling slightly sick. There was an ache in himself that had nothing to do with his body and everything with the conversations and people he’d had to deal with all day.

Muttering to himself in Thai to comfort himself, he got up when the door buzzed and accepted their ordered food.

Once they were both cleaned up and swaddled in oversized pajamas, they sprawled on the couch to watch the news. They worked their way through greasy noodles and soggy veggies as news of another bombing flashed on the screen. Limp bodies of avians, shocked torn faces were shown in stark colors without censor.

“It’s sick,” muttered Yuuri

Human victims were blurred out or not shown at all. Yuuri looked away, “I know they’re not human, but I wish they wouldn’t show the faces.”

Phichit bit back his reply about dehumanization and shrugged, “We’re at war, and that’s the enemy. We’re not going to treat the enemy with the same respect as ourselves, right? Like you said, they’re not human anymore.”

“Not that they ever were,” murmured Yuuri as the news changed to a shouting political scene, “they just look like us. They pretend to think like us.”

“Ever considered that the—“, started Phichit, and then closed his mouth. The usual pout thinned out into something hard and unforgiving.

“What?” asked Yuuri, instincts on red alert, he puts down his food so he can pay attention to Phichit.

“The way we’re going on about this is wrong?” Phichit waved at the screen to indicate what he was talking about. “The war.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s why I never enlisted.”

“Of course.”

..

Yuuri watches Phichit like a hawk the entire morning, and relaxes by increments when his best friend displays none of the dark mood from last night. He’s humming and cheeky and suggesting they go out dancing that weekend.

But Phichit’s mood sours when instead of following Yuuri into section 1 to take care of the avians, he peels away, heading for section 3: R&D.

“Remember me as I am,” said Phichit mournfully, “Don’t get another best friend.”

Yuuri snorted, “My days won’t be _that_ much shorter than yours. I can wait one more hour until you clock out.” With that reassurance, Phichit leaves.

Section 3 is quiet, usually the avians are given beds and they are allowed to sleep outside their cages. But when Yuuri turns on the computer screens he sees all of the avians are still in the cramped cages and V27 still has his wind bindings on. Yuuri sees red and writes a furious message to the night shift. Then he grabs some scissors and walks through the tunnel separating the main lab room and the avian habitat.

“I’m sorry everyone,” said Yuuri, “I’ll open the doors in a minute. V27 come here so I can cut those bindings off.

But V27 blinked slowly at him and turned away, hair artfully falling over his eyes.  

“V27, this isn’t a joke,” said Yuuri through the bars of the small cage, “You could lose circulation. Someone should have done this after my shift, there could be damage already.”

V27 stood and pressed its face to the bars facing another cage, O20.

Frustrated, Yuuri didn’t bother talking to O20, “Great. Another mute. At least you’ll have company O20.” O20 also had its face pressed between bars, his teeth bared into a snarl. Curious, Yuuri ducked past the foliage that decorated the room and saw a handler poking and zapping his juvenile avian with a prod. Briefly, O20 flicked its eyes to Yuuri.

“What do you think you’re doing?” snarled Yuuri, grabbing the handler’s arm, “These aren’t dumb animals and you’re not paid to treat them like cows or horses.”

The handler shrugged, pulling back from the bars, “They _are_ animals. And I wasn’t going to kill it. That’s your job isn’t it?”

Yuuri choked back his rage and tried snatching the prod from the handler’s grip. At that moment Y16 decided it would be a good idea to bite its cheek and spit blood at them.

“Gah!” Yuuri stumbled back, quickly pulling out an antiseptic wipe from his pocket.

But the handler, manually unlatched the door and rushed into the cage, slugging the avian in the face. Y16 dropped and the other avians started screaming and cursing.

“Get out!” shrieked Yuuri above the din, “Get out of my sight!” And as the handler rushed by, Yuuri managed to snatch the keycard from his collar and pocketed it. Yuuri finished scrubbing his face and glasses.

 **O20 was snarling obscenities and the other avians were also screaming for Y16. Yuuri rushed into the** cage and carefully straightened Y16’s neck, Y16 grabbed his arms, eyes wide, and Yuuri sighed in relief. He spoke into the microphone clipped to his collar and quickly retreated from the cage, locking it. A team and Yakov arrived within minutes.

“What happened? It’s barely 8 in the goddamned morning.” Yakov turned red and roared, “SILENCE OR I’LL GET RID OF THE RUNT!”

Yuuri was grateful the lie worked, all of the screaming and wing beating ceased almost immediately.

“One of your handlers decided to jump into the cage and slug one of my avians!” seethed Yuuri, “Do you know how rare it is to get a juvenile?”

“All right, all right,” said Yakov, hands up, “It wasn’t your fault.” Yuuri slapped the handler’s key card into Yakov’s hands.

“Get him bound and to radiology,” said Yuuri, trying to keep calm, “I want to know if anything is broken.”

“No!” screeched Y16, having woken up, “Not the sedative!” It fell silent, clutching it face in agony, curled on the floor. Meanwhile, O20 continued to growl audibly. Both Yakov and Yuuri decided to ignore it.

 Yuuri pressed his face to the bars, “You have to calm down and let them put on the wing bindings then. Calm. Down.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yakov roll his eyes and leave.

But Y16 continued to fret and shriek. Somehow they managed to dart him with a mild relaxant and get him onto a stretcher where the bindings were applied.

 Yuuri smoothed its hair back, trying to shush it as he helped transport the terrified youngster to radiology.

“I don’t want-“ whimpered Y16, “Please don’t put me to sleep.”

“Are you going to be good?”

“Yes,” it whimpered, “Please. Please. Please.”

 Yuuri frowned, “I don’t want you to be further injured, if you stay still I’ll let you out to the net room, _if you’re good_.”

“Yes! Yes!” said Y16, its fidgeting ceased.

.

Yuuri looked at the x-rays with a critical eye, looking for hairline fractures, then he brought them to Phichit, for a second opinion.

“I don’t see any breaks,” said Phichit, nose to the film, “What did you say happened?”

“One of the handlers attacked the juvenile we have. Animal.”

Phichit’s eyes crinkled and he looked up at Yuuri, “Careful, that could be construed as treasonous.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean. A juvenile is a juvenile no matter the species. A baby shark is no more a threat to you than a kitten!”

“A shark.” Phichit huffed, “God, Yuuri.”

.

Y16 stood in the center of the netted area, wings spread out, Yuuri sat by the door, a panic button slung around his neck at Yakov’s insistence. The day was beautiful and the netting barely visible. Yuuri squinted upwards, suddenly nervous that the netting was so thin and invisible.

Y16 lifted its wings and stroked down hard, lifting off the floor a couple of inches, and then fell back again. Yuuri sat forward, mind churning. Y16 crouched and jumped, pumping its wings, rising a couple feet and then landing hard on its stomach. Yuuri slowly approached, “Y16?”

Y16 turned, “What.” It looked surly.

“Can you fly?”

Y16 turned away and crouched, beat its wings and flew forward a few feet, then fell sprawling. Yuuri was buffeted by the updraft and scuttled back.

“Not yet,” growled Y16, “I’m too young.” It turned a critical eye on Yuuri, “You weren’t here at that time. Otabek and I got out, but.... I couldn’t fly away. Otabek stayed”

“Ah...” Yuuri felt bewildered, O20 and Y16 managed to get out? Impressive, even if Yuuri didn’t understand why they would want to leave.

“He didn’t want to leave me behind.” Y16’s shoulders sagged and several tears escaped, “It’s all my fault.”

“Let’s get back inside,” said Yuuri and Y16 nodded.

**\------**

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Victor quietly, holding his hand out for Otabek to take.

Otabek huddled in the back of his cage, wings clamped tightly to his back, almost invisible. “I’m sure we’re all fine,” was all Otabek said before burying his head into his knees.

The front doors slid open and in walked, _walked_ , Yuri and the scientist who carried a tote and gripped Yuri by the arm.

Otabek lifted his eyes and followed Yuri across the room until he was in the cage. And to their surprise the scientist entered the cage. Yuri sitting on the little bench, he allowed the scientist to look into his mouth and clean it.

“This is just a numbing agent I’m spraying, ok? It’s going to feel cold.”

Otabek scoffed and both Yuri and the scientist turned.

“Do you have something to share O20?”

Otabek buried his head again and the scientist turned back to Yuri, prodding his mouth. Victor couldn’t believe it, he’d heard stories of this hell hole, and this was definitely not protocol. This scientist was now applying a thin coat of gel to Yuri’s face and bandaging that before stepping out of the cage and closing it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll unlock all of them in a bit.” he left.

.

As soon as the doors clicked open, Otabek and everyone else rushed out of their little cages to stretch and assess Yuri.

Victor wasn’t sure what to do, he hung back, watching everyone fuss.

An older avian, missing her left arm and right eye approached Victor. Her face was thin and angular, she stood like a dancer.

“So.” she said, looking him up and down, “You don’t look like a street rat or a thug. What happened?”

Victor sighed and fell into a crouch, “My mouth happened. I was a lawyer. Are you in charge here?”

The avian tilted her head in affirmation and Victor continued, “I was raided at my house. They had a bullshit warrant. It didn’t matter that the warrant was bullshit.”

“My name’s Lilia. And what kind of life did you lead to become a _lawyer_ as an avian?”

Victor scratched his cheek, “They sprouted pretty late, I was already vetted by the world council by the time the first scales started to grow. Though I should have known.” He shook his head.

Lilia sighed, “Pretty much the same thing happened to me.”

“I don’t think so,” said Victor letting his gaze fall onto the gaping hole in her face. “I’d remember losing an eye.”

Lilia laughed and it was a warm sound, Victor relaxed. “Well, what’s your name then?”

“Victor.” Lilia took his hand, face breaking into what Victor guessed was a rare smile.

“I’d say welcome, but I doubt you want to last two weeks here. As you can imagine by Yuri’s reaction.”

“So. It’s as bad as the reports say,” Victor mused, looking over to the still tightly knit group fussing over Yuri.

“Oh, much, much worse.” Lilia sighed, bone weary, “I didn’t lose either my eye or arm in an accident, I’m assuming at some point I’ll get prosthetics, but... who knows, I’m quite old and lucky they haven’t cut these damned wings off yet.”

Victor remained silent, his blood running cold, “That scientist treated Yuri pretty well.”

“He’s new,” said Lilia flatly, “And once he gets over his squeamishness, which the media has half taken care of already, he’ll be gleefully cutting us open like the rest of those animals.” She spit onto the floor. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

They approached the group, “Otabek’s the one next to you. Yuri is the child. Mila is here....” Lilia introduced the rest of the avians, ten in all, and they all ranged from midnight black wings of Otabek to Yuri’s fawn down to Mila’s sienna red. Victor’s wing bindings had yet to be cut, he remembered briefly.

“You should remind the scientist of them,” said Lilia softly, touching Victor’s shoulder, “You don’t want to lose circulation.”

“Should I bang on the walls or what?” Victor tried moving the bindings, but they were too tight.

“You can talk into that thing.” said Otabek, pointing to a recessed part of the wall outlined in yellow, “We’ve never used it but...”

Victor sighed and walked over to the intercom, he pressed his thumb to it briefly and it activated.

“Yes?” the scientist’s voice came through clear, as if he was standing right there.

“The wing bindings,” said Victor tightly, unable to form a complete sentence through his rage.

The scientist sighed, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait-“

Victor scowled.

“-it’s almost dinner time and if I put you all back inside, the doors to the holding cells won’t open until dinner which is in two hours. I doubt everyone wants to wait three hours to be let out again.

Rather than respond, Victor turned away, he found he could shift his wings lower on his back to allow the compressed areas some time to breathe.

.

Yuuri would occasionally look over to the screens, watching how the avians were doing. The new capture was trying to move his wings, Yuuri felt bad for it, but it wasn’t fair to the rest. He’d offered to snip the bindings and V27 had refused, now it had to wait until dinner. O20 and Y16 were speaking quietly, Yuuri had noticed that familial bond right away, even though they weren’t genetically related at all. Curious.

“How are things?” Yakov entered Yuuri’s office, cups of coffee in hand. He handed one to Yuuri.

“Good. They’re tending to the juvenile’s injuries, it seems fine. Nothing broken, thankfully. I would have been mad if we’d lost our only juvenile. Did you know it can’t fly?” Yuuri’s eyes shone excitedly and Yakov smiled, indulging him.

“No?”

“No! I took it to the netting area and it _tried_ to take off but failed! I’m going to start taking daily physicals of it to watch its progress, I’m not sure if the lack of ability is because of it’s age or because there’s something wrong.”

Yakov nodded, “I’m truly glad you took such good care of it. It was basically eating out of your hand.”

Yuuri cleared his throat, pleased at the compliment. “Anyway, I’ve updated the status and lists of what we’ll need to include for the new capture. Food and the like.”

“Ah! That reminds me. Have you made a decision about which beast to release? You can send one to Phichit, he only has seven to work with.”

“Maybe X46,” said Yuuri, “It never really bonded well with the group. And I’ve learned all I can from it. Perhaps V27 would be better.”

“Think on it,” insisted Yakov, “Once you sign it away, you won’t get it back. You know how R&D is with their toys.”

Yuuri swirled his coffee, frowning.

Yakov chuckled, “What is it. I know that face.”

“It’s just that L56 has been without an arm or eye for months, the extrication and subsequent healing went well, but....”

“Is it affecting your research?”

“It did,” said Yuuri, “I learned a lot, but it’s stagnated.”

Yakov pursed his lips, “I’ll talk to R&D about it, but no promises.”

“An arm at least. It hasn’t been properly exercising because of the imbalance.”

“I already agreed to help,” said Yakov, his voice dry.

.

“Welcome home,” said Yuuri, when he heard the front door swing open. “Guess what! Today I talked to Yakov about L56 and he said he would look into trying to get- what’s wrong?”

Phichit slunk into the kitchen looking green, “Nothing. First day culture shock, is all. What’s for dinner?”

“I brought home pulled pork-“ He showed Phichit the fragrant dark brown meats swimming in sauce.

Phichit’s eyes bulged and he rushed away into the bathroom. Yuuri put down the platter he’d been about to serve and ran after Phichit, managing to catch the bathroom door before it closed. Phichit leaned over the toilet, vomiting. Yuuri ran back into the kitchen for a glass of water.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri stroked Phichit’s back as he continued to puke, Yuuri held the water out to him but Phichit shook his head and threw up again. He threw up until there was nothing more to spit. Yuuri dragged him out of the bathroom and made him drink water and then lemonade in sips until he had drained both glasses.

“Tell me,” said Yuuri.

Phichit sniffled, “I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

Yuuri would have laughed except Phichit’s face was drained and he hung limply off Yuuri’s shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. I’m your best friend, Phichit.”

Phichit shuddered, “If you’re really my best friend, you’ll never ask me what I do at work. Both for my sake, and yours. Promise me.”

“But-“

“Promise me!” Phichit smelled like vomit and his eyes were puffy from crying.

“I promise.”

“Good.” Still sniffling, Phichit curled into Yuuri, their dinner forgotten.


	2. The Only People Who Are People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively Titled: Welcome to the Family

Victor carefully stretched his wings to their full length, tendons crackle and snap underneath the silvery fuzz of feather. His back and wings feel tight from being strapped down for so long, but that was once his usual day so this felt no different. He toed the thin rubber mat that’s his bed for the night and shakes his head. The mattress feels grimy under his bare toes.

“Is there a problem,” asked Lilia, “with your bed?” She's pushing her own thin mat closer to Mila's.

Victor doesn’t answer, instead he looks around the room. It’s a low room, but long. It allows them to walk or run around, but now fly. Their individual cages are pushed up against the walls, and the foliage that’s supposed to make the space more welcoming, he sneers at the half-dead plants.

“This place is a shit hole.” Victor’s never bothered  mincing words, and it’s not like the situation can get any worse. So he’s surprised when Mila hisses at him to shut up.

“There’s no reason to talk like that. You’ll just get in trouble,” she tries to warn him.

Victor ignored her and muttered to himself, “This is quite a down grade.”

Lilia and Mila looked at one another, Lilia sighed and shook her head, “Leave him alone. He’ll learn. Or it’ll kill him first.”

That was a concerning comment. “So the stories about this place are true.” He levelled a somber gaze at Lilia who just looked away, her face hard.

“Let everything you know go,” advised Mila, “What’s the point. We’re not going anywhere.”

Victor pinched his bottom lip, “Aren’t we?” Gracefully, he sank onto the floor, bending his knees and tucking his feet under himself.

“Enough of your lip,” said Lilia sharply, “Just lay down and be quiet. We’re all tired and need to be ready for tomorrow. You gain nothing my talking yourself into a knot.”

“But you haven’t even heard how I plan to get us out of here,” whined Victor, exaggerating his pout for Lilia. His heart was beating hard enough to leave a bruise, but his face remained serene. He flashed Lilia a pretty smile.

Lilia and Mila hissed at him to be quiet. Otabek got up from where he was curled up with Yuri and stalked up to Victor, looming over him. “Stop. Talking.”

Victor admires how intimidating Otabek can me. “Not a chance.” His eyes crinkled as his mouth stretched into a broad smile. “I’ve got a few ideas. I don’t intend to die here.”

“None of us intended to die here. Yet—“ Otabek grimaced, “Just be quiet. For everyone’s sake.”

“Oh, so you’ve decided to give up. Have you told your little shadow that? I bet he’s disappointed.”

Otabek narrowed his eyes, lips going razor thin, “Shut your _goddamned_ mouth, you prissy fuck.”

Victor smiled blandly, sweeping his bangs back, “Oh, you’d rather rot here then?”

“You’re putting everyone in danger.” Otabek’s voice steadily grows quieter, “There are cameras. Everywhere.”

Victor flicked his eyes to the ceiling where flat silver discs hang, “What— and codes don’t exist?”

Otabek gave up on trying to reason with Victor, who was clearly bent on destroying himself. “You’ll see tomorrow, they’ll have heard you, you’ll see.” Otabek backed away from Victor and sunk onto his mat, the child, Yuri, stared at Victor with wide eyes, gripping Otabek’s jumpsuit. They settled back down to sleep.

For a moment, all eyes are on Victor. “I didn’t know you wanted Y16 to live and die here, Beka. Do you think he’ll give Yuri little treats for being such a good pet?”

Otabek lunges for Victor’s throat, lifts him up and slams him onto the cold concrete floor.

“Otabek!” shrieked Mila, and her screams are joined by the others. Victor chokes, gasping for air around the vice grip on his throat. He scrabbles to loosen Otabek’s grip on him, weakly beating his wings over Otabek’s head. But Otabek just bears down, his eyes gone distant and blank.

Sirens blare. Otabek continues to snarl, pressing his fingers into Victor’s soft throat, determined to cause real damage.

Handlers run in and shoot Otabek with a taser. Victor bucks, feeling the blind pain of electricity too. Otabek gasps and sags, collapsing on top of Victor. With a heave, the handlers throw Victor into his little cage, he lands on his wing and groans, feeling the cold metal press against him, arms curled into his chest reflexively. Victor can see Yuri reaching through the bars for Otabek, who tries to reassure him, holding the child’s hand through the bars. “It’s okay Yuri. We’ll be okay. Go sleep with Lilia and Mila tonight. Go on.” Yuri creeps over to Lilia, glaring at Victor.

Victor is in too much agony to care, he crawls to the far side of the cage and closes his eyes, but tears still escape him, he muffles them in his hands.

.

“Hey... Hey... Hey.”

Victor cracked an eye open, to find Yuri standing outside of his cage, staring down at him in concern, slim fingers wrapped around the bars. Victor turns to look at Otabek, expecting to find him glaring at Yuri, but Otabek is asleep.

“What is it?”

Yuri licked his lips, nervousness scrawled onto his face, “Are you okay?”

“Go to sleep, swallowtail,” murmured Victor, tapping Yuri’s nose. "I don't want Otabek coming after me."

“Tell me,” insisted Yuri, “ If you're okay” He took Victor’s hand, as if to offer support, and begins to rhythmically taps on Victor’s skin.

Victor shook himself fully awake, “What are you doing?”

“You said you were a lawyer.” The rhythmic tapping continued, hidden from the cameras.

Victor looked down at Yuri’s hand and then up again, “I am. Why? You want to go into law too?” Victor tapped the back of Yuri’s hand,  _morse code. clever, swallowtail. very clever._

Yuri grinned, “No. Otabek kicked your ass. Someday I’ll kick your ass too.”  _You’re rusty,_  came the quick reply before Yuri crept away.

Feeling lighter, Victor managed to control his face and pretended to fall asleep.

**\-------------**

“ _What_  happened?” Yuuri clutched the tablet in his hands, he scrolled quickly through the video surveillance.

“Two males went toe to toe. I don’t know what to tell you. The sound was off, but their conversations are never-“

Yuuri was already turning away, “You can go.” He scrolled through the video four more times before ordering the avians into their small cages and requesting handlers. He watched as O20 and V27 are carted away, the juvenile was wailing.

“Bring him back!” begged Y16, “Please! Please!”

Yuuri ignored it and tapped a code into the computer, the lights dim and soft music is piped in, then Yuuri keys in a mild soporific gas. That should do until he came back.

.

“So, what happened O20.” Yuuri didn’t expect an answer and was surprised to get one.

“The new one was running his mouth, upsetting everyone.”

Yuuri’s mouth hung open, “Excuse me?” It's typical to receive such simplistic responses from the avians, but Yuuri hadn't herd more than two words from Otabek since he started.

Otabek stared at him impassively and Yuuri recovered, “So you attacked Y27 to what? Prove a point? Violence isn’t conducive to resolving your problems.”

Otabek tipped his chin in what Yuuri could swear is derision, eyebrows subtly shifting inwards. “No?”

Yuuri cleared his throat, “Not here,” he said firmly, “I appreciate your cooperation.” He stood and O20 was taken back to the avian room. Y27 was rolled in next and clipped to the table, his arms were red as if from a bad sunburn.

“What happened?”

“Why do you care?” asked Y27 cheerfully, “From what I understand of this facility...” He petered off, eyes flickering to the ceiling, silver disks stare back at him.

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Why did O20 attack you?”

“You mean Otabek?” V27’s voice is firm, like a teacher gently scolding a student. Yuuri flared at the tone of voice.

“O20 isn’t a citizen of Metropolis-Sigma,” replied Yuuri with patience, “And thus is not a citizen. Thus, has no recorded name.” He gave his argument as if it were obvious.

“And thus, the identifiers like ‘O20’ serve as a tactic to dehumanize us,” V27 mimicked Yuuri’s speech pattern and rested his head on slim fingers, gaze roving across Yuuri’s face, “To be referred to as numbers. It becomes easier to use and abuse us, excusing horrific actions against a perceived non-human.”

Yuuri clicked his mouth shut, “You’re not human, though.” He eyed the scales running down V27's arms,  _definitely not human._

V27 shrugged, “A minor detail in the greater argument for sentience and free will, don’t you think? Human, no. But to be considered  _animal_?” Victor folded his hands and waited on Glasses to speak.

“Irrelevant,” said Glasses, but still feeling unsettled at the argument V27 presented, “You are prisoners of war, in my care, and the only thing I care about is your well-being. I want to prevent further fights.” V27's file had warned Yuuri about this, of how well V27 was able to pretend higher intelligence and humanity, still, that did not make him any less unnerving.

“I promise not to provoke Otabek any longer.” V27 stared him down, “And I doubt that your ‘concern’ will affect which hole our mangled bodies are dumped into, right?”

Yuuri paused, for some odd reason remembering Phichit’s reaction at the platter of pulled pork in its bed of sauce. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re under my care. No harm will come to you. Prisoners of war are valuable.”

Victor spread his hands out, cocking his head to one side, “But... did you not just claim us as non-entities?”

Yuuri scoffed, “I said you weren’t human, not that you were non-entities.”

Victor’s smile was thin, “Then either we are sentient and there are atrocities occurring here, or I’m talking out of my ass. Which is it?”

“There aren’t atrocities occurring here. You are safe here, prisoners maybe, but that’s only because we’re at war.”

“ _And_  because we’re different,” V27’s voice was soft, still searching for something in Yuuri’s gaze, and suddenly, the room feels too small. Yuuri feels V27’s arguments weigh on him, he pushes them aside and calls for handlers to take V27 away.

\-------------

Phichit and Yuuri both poke at their salads, Phichit unusually quiet.

“So honey, work was hard on you too?” The TV is white noise in the background.

Yuuri snorted, “Shut up.” Phichit managed a pale smile in return.

Abruptly, Yuuri throws down his fork. “We can’t give up,” Yuuri slams his hands on the table, making Phichit drop his fork too. Yuuri stands and paces frantically, working his hands through his hair, “We just got out dream careers and- and we can’t expect it to be perfect all at once! Sure we’re both having trouble, but we can get through this!” Yuuri turns to Phichit, “Obviously, you didn’t want to work in R&D-“

“Hear, hear,” Phichit weakly raises his lemonade in the air in mock toast that Yuuri ignores.

“And I didn’t want to be left alone with basically an entire section to lead! I feel like I’m making everything up as I go!” Yuuri collapses into his chair, “Have I missed anything?”

“You basically said, ‘our jobs suck but-‘ and then left it at that.” Phichit gulps lemonade to settle his stomach.

“We’ll get used to this kind of pressure and situation,” Yuuri stabs at his salad, and forces himself to eat, “Eventually it will become second nature.”

Phichit shudders. “I’m going to run down to the corner store to buy some medicine, I feel like I’m coming down with a bug.”

“Oh. Okay.” Concerned, Yuuri watches Phichit make a dash for their front door, slamming it shut with more force than necessary. Yuuri drags himself upright to wash the dishes, taking a deep breath and recites the speech in his head.  _I’ve noticed that you’re not eating, Phichit. Are you all right? Is there something I can do to help? What do you need from me because you look terrible and I don’t-_

Yuuri flinches when Phichit comes back, looking sheepish, “I forgot my wallet.”

“Phichit, wait.” Yuuri quickly dries his hands and says, “Let me come with you. We’re running out of... lemons... Because your diet pretty much is only lemonade.”

Phichit gives him a hollow laugh and holds out his arm, “What if we go for a walk to Mirage Plaza? There are excellent pastries to be eaten there and maybe we’ll feel better with some fresh air. Also, we’ll get to gawk at the hot guys out for their shirtless evening run.”

**.**

_Otabek did warn me_  thought Victor sourly as he was carted off the next morning. Glasses scientist,  _what the fuck is his name_ , is flustered and trying to get the section 4 scientists to explain more fully what the tests entail. Finally, Glasses gives up and says something stupid about wanting  _it_  to be comfortable.

 _It!_ Victor wishes he was as good at spitting as Yuri so he could spit into Glasses’ mouth, Victor loses the thread of conversation between Glasses and the other scientists.

Yuuri is unceremoniously shooed away and he trudges back to his section to find several impatient handlers from section 5 waiting for O20. Yuuri orders O20 step into the hatch between the avian room and the rest of the building, from there the handlers take over, securing O20. Yuuri belatedly forgets to ask about information of the tests, he groans and lets it go, one day of unsecured testing isn’t going to kill O20.

Yuuri keys in a broad view of the avian room with sound on, Y16 is quiet, huddling with M18 while L56 tells them a story. Yuuri checks his schedule and is delighted to find a message from Yakov,  _R &D has agreed to provide L56 with a prototype prosthetic_, on agreement that Yuuri take her to the wind tunnel for them and take careful notes. Yuuri quickly agrees, typing up a formal thank you and signing off on the procedure. Thinking fast, Yuuri arranges a net room day for his avians and calls in handlers to move L56 to an examination room in the meantime.

The avians immediately take off, shouting and zooming around the roughly five story area, buffeting each other and talking rapidly and loudly.

Yuri remains on the ground, glaring up at the zooming blurs.

“Don’t worry, Y16, your friend will be back by the afternoon. In a few days you’ll all have a go at the big net area.”

“Really?” Y16 glares at him, suspicious and guarded, one shoulder raised as if to ward off a blow.

“Oh yes,” says Yuuri, not looking at Y16, instead smiling up at the flying figures, “It will be fun, don’t you think?” He looks down at his watch and turns away slipping out of the net area, replaced by two surly looking handlers. Yuri quickly moves away and Mila joins him, “Need help Yura?”

.

L56 is waiting calmly, “What is going on?”

“You’re getting a prosthetic!” says Yuuri excitedly, “ _Finally_. Here is what it’s going to look like.” Lilia politely listens and does not comment until Yuuri asks, “Any questions?”

“What if I don’t want a prosthetic?” asks L56 quietly. Yuuri almost scoffs and then grins, “Don’t be silly. Your flying hasn’t been the same since the forearm was removed.”

Lilia bites her tongue as the scientist continues to blabber on and even as she’s laid down on a hard rubber mattress she merely says, “I don’t want the arm.”

Yuuri frowns, “but I’ve already signed off on it.”

“Then please let me wake up from this.” whispers Lilia as the anesthetic is applied, pinching her neck. Yuuri looks alarmed, “Of course. Of course.” His hands are gentle on her forehead and Lilia almost wants to cry, almost. She would rather slice this fool’s throat, but beggars can’t be choosers so she cries.

.

Victor is deposited onto the floor of his little cage,  _home sweet home sweet home,_ he chants almost hysterically, _home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home sweet home-_

The front doors slide open and Otabek comes in, looking tired but whole, they throw him into his cage and Otabek uses his wings to shift himself into a more comfortable position.

“You alive, hot shot?” asks Otabek, his voice raspy and jagged.

Victor can’t respond, he wants to, instead he laughs loudly but his throat closes up and he presses his hands to his mouth, stifling the weird desperate noises he wants to scream.

“Hey. Hey... Look at me,” Otabek struggles up, pressing his face to the bars and reaching for Victor, “Give me your hand, Victor.”

Victor, his skin still feeling tender, manages to extend his fingers out.

“Tell me your name,” says Otabek softly, “Who you are. Your profession. What did you like about it? What’s your favorite food?”

Victor weeps in relief and talks. Talks until he’s exhausted and sinking to the floor, face pressed to the ground, arm dangling out of the cage.

Otabek is startled by the arrival of the rest, everyone slides silently into their cages, noting that Lilia is still gone.

The scientist comes by a few hours later with Lilia in tow, looking like a proud father. Otabek curls his lip, but is distracted by Lilia’s left arm. He grips at the cage bars, ogling the prosthetic. The handlers are much gentler with Glasses around, they slide Lilia into her cage and gently shut the door. Glasses is typing away on his tablet and before he leaves takes a sweep around the room. His attention snaps to Victor, lying sprawled unnaturally in an uncomfortable position. Yuuri pats Victor’s head and Victor stirs.

“V27, are you all right?”

Victor blinks blearily, “My name is Victor, you bastard.” And turns his back, slamming his wings out, buffeting the scientist. Bewildered, Glasses picks up his tablet and leaves.

Otabek can’t help it, he laughs quietly. Victor stirs from his feather cocoon but doesn’t move.

.

Lilia awakes with her entire chest aching, there’s a little box balanced on the seat in her cage with a flimsy note next to it. “Call me when you wake up, have pain meds. And questions.” Lilia punches the button with her new arm, which was a mistake because the pain is so great that a wave of nausea hits her.

Within a minute Glasses is running in, a tote and two handlers with him. They sit Lilia up and Glasses gives her pills and talks to her for twenty minutes about how she feels. Lilia answers slowly, her entire back and even her toes aching. Finally he leaves and the doors to their cages open. Mila leaps from her perch and gawks at Lilia, unsure of what to do.

Otabek comes closer, “Do you need anything Lilia?”

“Peace, quiet, an escape,” mutters Lilia and Otabek laughs quietly. Mila climbs into the cage with Lilia and strokes Lilia’s hair.

“Thank you, my dear,” says Lilia and goes to sleep, couched on Mila’s legs.

.

Yuuri curses under his breath when he sees the time and hurriedly calls Phichit. The phone rings several times before Phichit answers.

“What is it?”

“Touchy,” answers Yuuri lightly and Phichit laughs.

“Sorry,” Phichit sighs, “Where are you? Traffic jam?”

“No,” Yuuri groans, “I’m still at work. Paperwork. Go to sleep early, Phichit. Oh and eat dinner.”

“Before or after I go to sleep?”

“After,” teases Yuuri and says good night. His good humor quickly vanishes as he continues to type up reports.

The call light for the avians beeps at him some time after eleven. Yuuri leaps to his feet and answers, “What is it? Is Lilia alright?” He feels the panic crawl up his throat as he realizes he hasn’t been keeping an eye on Lilia’s personal call light.

A throaty chuckle answers him, “I beg your pardon?  _Lilia?_ ”

Yuuri blushes and crouches on the floor, that damned V27, Victor. Yuuri breathes out slowly. “What is it?” he asks tightly.

“ _Lilia_  is complaining of pain.  _She’s_  been hitting that button for an hour.”

Yuuri doesn’t miss the emphasis in V27’s voice, but decides to ignore it in favor of gathering medicine for Lilia. He punches the signal for everyone to return to their small cages. L56 accepts the medicine and gulps the water Yuuri brings for her.

.

The next day is not much better, Yuuri drops off O20 at section 7 without incident, but V27 has tears streaming down its face the entire way back to section 4.

“Why are you crying?” Yuuri has to admit that it looks beautiful, the fat tears silently dripping down its cheeks. V27 doesn’t respond and carefully wipes its face before Yuuri leaves it in the care of the section 4 scientists. He remains with M18 as the section 3 scientists perform small tests, Yuuri takes advantage of the down time to start some paperwork. M18 stumbles out of the testing room several hours later, practically sagging against the handlers. Yuuri lifts an eyebrow at the handlers dragging his avian and they plop M18 into a wheelchair. Gently, Yuuri straps M18 in and wheels it back to the avian room.

L56 is as lovely as ever, doing all of the physical therapy without complaint until Yuuri is satisfied with its progress. “Thank you for working hard today, L56,” says Yuuri cheerfully, “ This afternoon you’ll all get a chance to go out to the smaller net room.”

“Lucky me,” L56 rolls her shoulders, wincing at the prospect. Yuuri allows her to walk back to the avian room instead of having the handlers frog march her, and Lilia is furious she’s grateful for that small dignity. Her hodge-podge family’s eyes are glued to her as she walks into the room. Mila and Yuri run to her, Yuri to nuzzle under her right arm and Mila to lay gentle hands to her back.

“Are the boys still gone?” she asks weakly, Yuri and Mila help her to her bed mat. The rest of the avians circle close, offering her gentle touches from their wings, or a comforting hand on her good shoulder. Mila wraps a dull red wing around her, Lilia leans into the warmth.

“Yes. Yuri, can you go play with someone else for a bit?” Mila fondly chucks Yuri under the chin and he hops away, wings beating slowly.

Mila leans her head on Lilia’s shoulder and Lilia rests her cheek against Mila’s head.

_Are you alright?_

Lilia flinches at the morse code tapped onto her arm, she moves her hand slightly and responds.  _I’m old, I’m considered an animal._

_Yuri started the tapping again, btw._

_I should have known. With you?_  Lilia absently caresses Mila’s hair.

 _No, with Victor, according to Beka._ “Do you want my lunch today?” Mila keeps up the pretense of a conversation

Lilia groans, able to guess why Yuri spoke with Victor. “No, no. You need your strength.”

_God help us. But if it’s true, then I’ll start getting everyone prepared._

_Thank you, Lilia_. “I suppose we all need our strength.”

.

Victor stumbles through the hatch, past the inner door, landing face first onto the ground, feathers a mess, hair greasy with sweat, there’s bandages on both his thighs.  Mila and Yuri drag him over to Lilia, combining their four sleeping mats onto one large one. Victor slouches over his knees, eyes unfocused.

“Victor,” Lilia is sitting behind him, “Victor, I’m going to straighten your feathers, okay? Mila and Yuri will help.” Victor nods and is eventually soothed by the tender hands that run through his wings, Lilia begins running her hands down Victor’s back, soothing him further.

Mila sits in front of him, Yuri sprawled in her lap, all gangly and awkward, still unsure of how to fold his wings down tightly. Victor smiles at the picture they make. Feathers tickle Mila’s face.

“You two, watch him, make sure he sleeps.” Lilia gets up, “I’m going to go check on everyone else.”

Victor curls on his side, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Yuri is crouched by the door when Otabek comes in. He helps Otabek sit next to a sleeping Victor.

“Lilia is checking on everyone,” says Yuri to Otabek, quickly straightening Otabek’s feathers. Otabek shakes out his wings, and tucks them in tightly. He thanks Yuri, tapping out a message on his wrist.

 _She’s onboard?_  “Everyone else is back?”

Yuri nods and taps back.  _You’ll have to teach me to fly first. Even Victor says so._  “No overnight trials.”

Otabek frowns,  _No. It will call more attention to you from Glasses._  “Thanks. Lie down and try to sleep.”

 _Then you’ll have to leave me behind._ “Can you itch my wing? I can’t reach it.”

Otabek groans and looks at Mila who’s stroking Victor’s hair, but has stretched out so her foot is touching Otabek. She smiles at him, Otabek runs his fingers through Yuri’s wing, finding the errant feather. He taps on Mila’s leg.  _What do you think about Yuri learning to fly? It’s too dangerous, he’ll be marked._

 _Unless you’re offering yourself and Yuri as sacrificial lambs, I don’t see how else to everyone to get out._  “Yuri, do you want me to braid that feather into your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Mila scoots and starts braiding.

Otabek rubs his chin, he has no problem sacrificing himself but knowing Yuri, which he did, Yuri would stay behind with him. Otabek pats Yuri’s hair, “Hey, Yuri, you’re getting pretty old now. Isn’t it time you learned how to fly properly?”

Yuri beams, “Really?”

“Glasses did say he’d be going to the big net room in a few days, so why not?”


	3. In the Belly of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was difficult to wrangle.

It’s the screams that terrify him the most, piercing his ears, he can feel their blood on his face. It’s hot and thick and _stains._

“Phichit!” Yuuri’s hands tear him out of the nightmare.

He clings to Yuuri, gasping and trying not to vomit over his friend. “I can’t,” gasps Phichit, dragging himself upright, “I can’t go back to that hellhole. Call Yakov.” But he can’t let Yuuri go and Yuuri doesn’t move, stroking his back and letting Phichit dig fingernails deep into his back.

“It’s two in the morning, Phi.” Yuuri tries to reason with him, but Phichit finds the long, scythe-like scar on Yuuri’s shoulder blade and it reignited his fury.

“Now!” screams Phichit and Yuuri scrambles for the phone, frightened by Phichit’s outburst. He leaves Phichit with the ringing phone for a minute to grab some water and ice, to shove it into his friend’s hands, hoping he’ll calm down. Phichit splashes most of the iced water onto himself and the bed than into his mouth, his breathing grows less ragged, and Yuuri sits behind him, stroking his back. But Phichit glares at him and shakes him off, pushing Yuuri off the bed.

 _It’s not fair,_ thinks Phichit as he slams the door shut on his best friend’s soft and confused face, _it’s not fair Yuuri gets to sleep at night._ Phichit wants to drag Yuuri down, wants Yuuri to be guilty and as filthy as he feels. It’s not fair at all and Phichit feels like he’s suffocating, can’t fathom the gulf that yawns between him and Yuuri, all because Yuuri is too stupid and thick-headed to look around.

Yakov finally answers and Phichit allows his voice to break, allows Yakov to hear the desperation. “I’m sorry, Yakov, but I _cannot_ work at the detention center anymore. It... It’s overwhelming, thank you for the-“

Yakov’s disappointment is an explosive breath into the receiver, “I’m disappointed, Mr. Chulanont. Yuuri had recommended you most highly. I believe the words, ‘most intelligent and cleverest’ were thrown about.” And Phichit is silenced by Yakov’s clear favoritism of Yuuri; and Phichit feels his bewildering contempt for Yuuri grow. Yakov. Yakov Feltsman, head of Met-Sig’s detention center, thirty year career culminating as the head of that dark circus, favors Yuuri; sees Yuuri as someone worthy of listening to.

Somehow, Phichit drags himself back to the conversation that Yakov seems to be having with himself, “... lling to do good is also great. However I understand, even though you have already made great strides with decreasing the mortality rate. I hope that-“

“Excuse me,” Phichit manages to say through his sudden urge to vomit again, ”Excuse me, but what?”

“Huh? Oh, the decrease in mortality? Yes, the numbers barely came in last night, but you’ve cut down mortality by 2.5% and injury is down by 7.2%, _very_ impressive for less than two weeks-“

Phichit interrupts him again because he feels the slimy dread in his stomach shift for the first time in weeks. Phichit stares ahead blindly, trying to tabulate how many surgeries he’s had to witness these past two weeks, how many medical trials, _God help me._ “...But I haven’t even done anything, I mean I _have_ been working hard. I’m sorry, I guess I loss sight of the goals we have.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Yakov’s voice is gruff, but understanding, “So... you’re not quitting?”

“Definitely not,” says Phichit firmly.

“Excellent, but don’t call me again at such an ungodly hour or I’ll downgrade you to unpaid intern.” And Yakov hangs up.

Phichit walks into Yuuri’s arms, shuddering.

“Want to talk about it?” Yuuri had been waiting for him in the hallway, just standing there like a goddamned saint, and Phichit just wants to simultaneously evaporate from shame and to throw Yuuri out of the window.

“No.” Phichit’s voice is muffled, “Yuuri.... why did I agree to apply to this position?”

“We were suppose to be working together, you and I.”

“Taking care of the avians,” Phichit breathes deeply, “Right. Well... It can’t be helped now, can it? I’m doing good where I am.” Yuuri frowns, deeply curious as to what Phichit does exactly.

“Ph...” the question dies on his lips and Yuuri sighs, he grips Phichit’s arms tightly, “Tomorrow you’re going to eat four square meals or so help me. Do you understand?”

Phichit nods, looking worn down, and the meek acceptance worries Yuuri more than anything.

.

Victor comes back after a day of being pinched and poked, just wanting someone to run their hands through his wings, wants that physical comfort. But he’s jolted out of this day dream when he finds his thin bed mat shoved away from the group’s, it was a moment of confusion followed by the harsh realization that everyone has their backs turned to him.

Victor kneels to pick up his bed mat, haphazardly rolling it into a bundle, “U-umm.” And although Victor can feel the cold shoulder, it takes him a moment to process its meaning. And just like that, his limbs get heavier and the bed mat is suddenly almost too much to carry. The bruises ache more, his legs feel dead, Victor sucks in a slow and calming breath, reminding himself that these avians were never his friends to begin with. He knows their names, knows bits and pieces, but it’s not enough to claim them as allies. Not even here, where every scrap of fresh air is treasured. He feels disjointed as he turns away and heads for his little cage.

Victor curled up in his cage, using his bed mat as a shield and lets a fantasy twist into his mind. _He’s wearing his favorite suit with a fashionable tie cinched around his neck, easily extracting both information and smiles from friend and foe alike, and all to his benefit_ ; Victor presses the heel of his hand into his mouth before any sound can escape him. Had he still been that person from before, it wouldn’t have been a problem, he’d insinuate himself into the group and demand an explanation. But Victor Nikiforov was as good as dead.

A soft ‘tap-tap’ on the bars of his cage brings Victor out of his thoughts.

Lilia. She stares blindly over Victor’s shoulder, and stands there with impeccable posture from nape to heels despite everything, despite that gaping hole in her face and the loss of her arm. And in that space of time where Victor is still remembering his old life, still aching to have a surname at least, Victor realizes that it’s not just impeccable posture, it’s perfect posture. “You were a ballerina,” said Victor, surprising himself at the flash of insight.

“There’s only ever ten of us in here.” Lilia ignored his comment, shoulders down, torso open, hips squared. Victor is completely sure she was a ballerina.

“Were you with the Met-Sig Conservatory Company?” It’s the most famous troupe that Victor knows, “I saw them perform-“

“Hush.” Lilia’s tone is implacable and she finally meets his gaze, “Stop talking and listen. There are only ten of us in here at any one time.”

Victor considered retreating back into his cocoon, but doesn’t want to relinquish this offering. He remembers that last night Xavier, age 46 and father of three, was dragged, screaming and crying out of the avian room. Victor considers this seemingly random piece of information, “Is that why Xavier was so upset yesterday? He’s not back, is he?”

Lilia dips her head, “No. He isn’t. And he won’t be coming back. There are only ten of us here, ever.” said Lilia, her gaze impassive. That’s when it clicked for Victor.

“There are _only_ ever ten here. You’re angry that I’m here and that Xavier was....was taken? Well, it isn’t my fault.” As much as Victor wants to lash out, he understands why everyone is angry, knows why they’re ignoring him. But that doesn’t mean he can’t, or won’t, be angry right back.

Lilia arches an eyebrow, perfect and elegant and cool, “Of course not. But it doesn’t mean we won’t mourn that stodgy bird, or that we have to be nice to you.”

“I have nothing more to say to you. Please leave me be.” Victor’s smile is blinding, but Lilia isn’t fazed by the sudden flip in mood.

“It just takes time, you have to understand. It was Xavier this time, but next time? It could be me, you, Yuri, Chantelle, Mila. Any of us. Give us time.” Lilia presses a hand to his head, a blessing from an icy angel, and leaves Victor alone with his thoughts.

.

“I just don’t know what to do with it,” Yuuri sighs, tapping his tablet. He and Phichit are drinking coffee, which is weird because Phichit hates coffee. And they’re drinking it in the staff mess hall which Yuuri _knows_ for a fact that Phichit hates _more_ than coffee.

“V27 again? Yuuri, if I have to keep hearing about that avian again I’ll get Yakov to nab him.”

“You wouldn’t,” mutters Yuuri. Phichit frowns at him, trying to guess why.

“Well, based on how you’ve had so much trouble with him, Yakov will notice and will definitely move him.” Phichit shifts his coffee from one hand to the other, a nervous tic he’s developed recently.

Yuuri frowns, “What do you think I should do?”

“Uhm,” Phichit actually raises both his eyebrows, “Use a prod like the rest of us civilized folks, Yuuri.” And he’s pleased with the horrified look Yuuri pulls.

“Don’t give me that,” snaps Phichit, purposefully sloshing coffee onto the floor so he doesn’t have to drink it, “You know very well that everyone uses them. If you want to keep V27 in your little family pod-thing or whatever, you’ll use a prod on him to make him jump hoops.”

And true to Yuuri’s nature, he latches onto the one thing he can defend, “Don’t anthropomorphize them,” admonishes Yuuri, “I just don’t like my avians fighting or being at odds with one another. It makes the tests and trials we run with them that much harder if they’re stressing.”

“Jesus, Yuuri,” Phichit swirls his coffee, and he can’t help but cut Yuuri up over that comment. “After all, it’s not like they have _anything_ else to stress about besides the social dynamics of this place.” Phichit is glad to see Yuuri flinch. “What’s wrong with me. I hate coffee.” Disgusted, Phichit throws the stale drink into the sink and leaves Yuuri to chew on that non-sequitur.

.

As soon as Phichit reentered section 2, he remembered why he’d tried to force down some of that nasty coffee, X46’s surgery. The coffee and company had been awful enough to make him forget for a few precious seconds. He quickly skims the progress report, updated ten minutes ago and groans. X46 is doing poorly, Phichit chews on his pen and then taps into his microphone so the doctors in the OR can hear him, “Pull back or X46 won’t make it. We’ll use Boka’s technique in a week.”

The voice of the lead doctor is angry in his ear, “A week! But-“

“Unless you want the hard work to _die_ I suggest pulling your goddamned hand out of that avian’s stomach!” Phichit doesn’t mean to snarl, but he’s fed up with being ignored. The doctors reluctantly pulled back and X46’s vital signs dip slightly before evening out.

As soon as X46 is sown up and unlikely to die, Phichit excuses himself. He grins at the assistants, “Caffeine runs right through me!” And they titter at his hurried exit. Once locked in the bathroom Phichit pukes into the toilet, his face inches from the water. _Do your best do your best do your best...._ Trembling, he pulls out the toothbrush he keeps stashed in his pockets, rinses his mouth before brushing his teeth. Tomorrow would be another round of this, _I can’t keep doing this alone. I can’t._ Phichit spits out the toothpaste, pops in a mint and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks like shit and Yuuri still looks like a fresh grad whose only job is to braid daisy chains instead of... Phichit throws the rest of the mints into his mouth, and the cinnamon burns his tongue and gums so much that the urge to vomit recedes.

...

Yuuri rubs his forehead, that little patch just above his eyes that curves into eyebrow. It’s difficult enough to work with the avians without also being distracted by his worry for Phichit. It’s the first time in their friendship that Phichit’s shut Yuuri out, it’s usually the other way around, and it’s enough to distract Yuuri at work and make everything more difficult. V27’s file _did_ say he would be difficult to handle, but with the added burden and worry of Phichit, it’s impossible for Yuuri to control that intense and roving gaze as well.

At first, Yuuri tries to be patient with V27 who balks at everything asked until literally forced. And Yuuri just cannot understand the avian’s primitive thoughts; he tries to reason with it, cajole, but nothing works, V27 even spits on a fellow scientist, Yelissa.

“That’s it.” Yelissa wipes her face, glaring at V27 and stomps out of the room, and Yuuri is left alone with V27 and that restless set of eyes.

“Just finish the tests,” says Yuuri, as gently as he can, “No one is causing you pain. No one is-“ Yuuri flinches when Yelissa storms in, prod in hand.

“I know you don’t like using these on them, but V27 isn’t cooperating and It’s _spitting_.” Yelissa looked apologetically towards Yuuri before turning to V27. “Finish the repetition.”

V27 spat at her again and Yelissa pressed the prod to V27’s arm. It arched away from the prod, hissing.

“I’m going to get a mask for it,” said Yuuri, feeling faint.

“Yes,” Yelissa looked at Yuuri sympathetically, her eyes softening, “You go do that, sweetie.” Yuuri left, wishing the avian would just obey their orders, _it’s not like this is a difficult test._

“Fuck you-“ that’s all Yelissa allows before she presses the prod to Its lower back, V27 howls, trying to twist away from the prod.

“Well?”

“I’ll do it,” pants Victor, wishing he could tear at his own lips for betraying him. He slumps against the wall at the satisfied nod of the sharp-eyed scientist, his back feels like it was just shredded, his abdomen and groin pulsing with pain.

Yelissa is satisfied to see It sag against the wall, still twitching and flinching in the afterglow of pain, “Perfect.” The door opens again, “Ah, thank you sweetie.” And Yelissa doesn’t bother saying anything more to It, simply slipping the hard plastic glottal mask over V27’s face and tightening the straps so neither spit nor scream can leak out.

Victor still feels the ache of the brand on his lower back at the end of the day, like a pulsing reminder to behave, to submit.

“We would have been done earlier if you’d just done the tests,” said Glasses reproachfully, gently, like a parent scolding their wayward but adorable child.

“Don’t talk to it, sweetie.”

 _Sweetie._ Victor wants to scream, and does, but the plastic mask filters out sound as well as trapping spit and so he slams his head back against whoever is frog-marching him back to the avian room. And all he gets is a knee to his back which makes him pass out.

.

The fifth day of being under Glasses’ attention Victor truly snaps. He has a weird machine glued to his back that applies weird shocks that don’t hurt, but that make his wings jump and twitch on their own. It’s weird and humiliating and the sweat that’s running down his forehead is blinding him, and it all culminates when Glasses places a gentle hand on his neck and sticks a needle into him, humming tunelessly. Victor growls, his legs and arms are tied down, but not his head. He rears back, there’s a shout of warning from another scientist, but it’s too late. Victor slings his head out and cracks Glasses right in the nose. The hot prod on his thigh is worth the feeling of Glasses’ warm blood on his face.

.

When he awakes, Victor is alone and strapped down to a table, face down. He lifts his head slowly, as much as he can. Someone in a light blue lab coat notices and turns, regarding Victor quietly, “You’re going to regret hurting him.” He has big, calf eyes and smells faintly of vomit and is chewing a hot pink pen.

Victor grinned with impudence, “Probably. I still enjoyed it though.” _This one shall be dubbed, Pen._ And Victor almost giggles.

“I’m sure you did,” said the scientist, sighing, “But you’re still going to wish you hadn’t. Well.... see you tomorrow Victor.” And the use of his name frightens him more than any threat could.

.

Victor is nervous, he’s survived nine days here and he hasn’t felt this nervous, phantom worms crawl up his throat, tickling his lips. _We need to get out, we need to get out now, Otabek wants to wait until Yuri is steadier in the air, but..._ Victor shudders. If I can just _survive until tomorrow, I’ll escape on my own if I have to, luckily, Glasses is here_. Victor wishes it weren’t true, but wherever the scientist decided to stick his nose, no one ever died. Maybe missing a few limbs or cups of blood, but alive.

“Hello!” The same scientist with the dark complexion from yesterday, Pen, briefly meets Victor’s eyes for a moment before moving onto Glasses. Victor had been about to respond, but realized that Pen is talking to Glasses.

...

Phichit looks horrible when Yuuri rolls V27 to section 2, Yuuri wishes he knew what to do for his friend, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “I’m staying.” Phichit stares at him, blocking off the large doorway stamped with a dark blue 2.

“Are you sure.” It’s not a question and there’s no displeasure in Phichit’s voice. Yuuri nods.

“Well, bring It in then.” And Phichit notices how the avian visibly bristles at being referred to as It. _Right there with you, buddy_. But Yuuri doesn’t notice, doesn’t really want to notice, all his attention is focused on Phichit.

The Pen glances at Victor frequently as they drag him through the doors of section 2, and despite wanting to faint, the small glances somehow help Victor resist the mass of dark energy threatening to devour him.

The lab smells like disinfectant and various other scents Victor doesn’t particularly care for; urine, feces, with a thin slime of stale sweat over everything. Glasses wrinkles his nose in displeasure and Victor can’t repress the shudder that wracks through him. The handler pushes Victor into a holding area and retreats from the room, leaving only the two scientists and the avians. The cage is tall but narrow, and Victor recoils from the pathetic figures already there, he grips the bars of the cage for support.

Glasses stares at the avians with needle tracks running up their arms, with machines roughly peeking up through skin. He turns to the Pen,  “What is going on here?! If this is how it is, No. Absolutely not.” The other scientist shakes his head but Glasses doesn’t budge, “I’m taking It back. I can’t allow this.” And Victor can’t prevent the small, terrified moan that escapes him.

Pen sags into his white coat and Victor finally notices the deeply scorched skin of Pen’s eyes and the grey tinge of his cheeks. Victor sidles up to the edge of the cage, curling his toes in fear. Pen ignores Glasses and walks closer to Victor.

“What’s your name?”

Victor is overcome by the strong whiff of vomit and he can’t find his voice or even remember his surname, all he remembers is that he’s 27 and that he _really_ hates the smell of vomit right now.

“It only talks when it’s feeling ornery,” says Glasses, coming up behind Pen, “I think it’s time you told me the truth.”

“My name’s Phichit,” and Phichit continues to ignore Glasses and Victor grips the bars of the holding pen, feeling so starved for recognition that he almost slams his head into the bars.

“Victor. You smell like vomit.” The words spill out of him, Victor can’t hold them back. He’s craving this.

“No shit.” Phichit smiles at him gently, and Victor licks his lips, almost swooning from the fear in his gut. “He’s my roommate.” Phichit jerks his head at Glasses who hisses at Phichit to stop being ridiculous.

Victor grasps for more conversation, more recognition, “Is he a good roommate?”

Phichit nods slowly, as if unsure, “Oh yes. But he’s kind of stupid though, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh definitely,” said Victor, “What’s his problem?” Victor’s voice cracks but Phichit doesn’t acknowledge it, he only leans in, as if confiding something important to Victor.

“A heart of glass. The idiot wraps himself up to prevent any damage, and you see what the rest of us are left to deal with.” Glasses seems stunned by Phichit’s words, he gapes at them both and Victor almost wants to laugh. Almost.

“You don’t have a glass heart,” Victor looks Phichit down, “Your heart is...meat.”

“Meat?” Phichit pretends to be offended

“It’s constantly being remolded, alive, whatever.” It’s not eloquent, but Victor is pleased with the surprised laugh he pulls from Phichit.

And just like that Phichit stiffens, pressing a finger to his ear where a comm bud is probably screwed in. “It’s time.”

And just like that, Phichit withdraws, his face sagging low, actually losing a couple of inches.

.

“It’s too late for him,” says Phichit to Yuuri after Victor is strapped to a bed, face down and carted to the operating room.

And all Yuuri can do is dumbly follow Phichit to the next room, to stand behind a polarized glass wall looking into a white operating room. “This is what you’ve been hiding,” the words drop from him reluctantly. The curiosity is now a painful tug on his navel and he can’t shake the cold slime dripping down his back. _This is what I’m a part of. This is..._ Yuuri’s bewilderment is sliced when the first scream comes through the intercom.

“Are you serious.” Phichit punches the intercom open, “Did _no_ _one_ think to glottal him? Seriously? How many fucking times do I have to-”

The doctors in the OR interrupt Phichit, “Right away, Mr. Chulanont.” And V27’s screams cut off abruptly, but Yuuri can’t look. That was V27 screaming like he was being torn apart by dogs and Yuuri can’t drag his head up.

Yuuri sits down in a chair, his vision wavering.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” says Phichit softly, “No. You don’t get to look away.” He kindly lifts Yuuri until he’s standing and Phichit squeezes his arm until Yuuri drags his face up. Until there’s nothing Yuuri can do but watch.

V27 is laid face down on a table and Yuuri can see there’s already blood dripping down the contours of its arms. V27’s head slams back against the hands trying to get him down, Yuuri breathes out hard when a prod is applied to its neck. “This is what we do,” Phichit mutters, his voice distant but firm. “This is what we are a part of. Don’t look away from Victor now Yuuri. You wanted to know.”

Victor’s wings beat weakly, arching in obvious pain as skin and muscle is stripped away. Phichit clicks a button and the sounds of the OR are transmitted to them, vaguely Yuuri can hear the remnants of Victor’s screams through the plastic glottal mask. He can hear the thin whisper of metal against skin and bleakly Yuuri wonders why the microphone pick up is so good.

“I used to allow the screams to be heard, but that just put everyone on edge... more accidents... more unintentional injuries. Now the poor bastards wear the masks, filters out most of the screams, yet allows normal speech.” Phichit’s voice is without inflection. “By the fourth or fifth surgery Victor goes through we’ll have to burn his vocal cords away, the damage to the throat and esophagus is quite gruesome and causes complications.”

“You’re not-“ says Yuuri, voice thick and phlegmy, “He’s not coming back here.”

“Oh, it’s a _he_ now is it?” And Phichit’s voice drags through Yuuri’s fog.

“I....” Yuuri’s breath becomes erratic and his knees go weak, but Phichit holds him up. “You wanted to know what I do, well... this is it. You can’t claim innocence anymore, Yuuri.”

Yuuri braces his hands on the table, he feels like he might throw up. Yuuri breathes deeply, controlling that feeling, he searches himself while looking at the blood dripping down from a doctor’s gloves. Victor has passed out, his hands relaxed. The doctors press electrodes to his bared muscles, making the wings flap weakly and snap in and out, depending on where the shocks are applied. At an hour and fifteen minutes, Victor wakes up again, the muscles in his neck bunch and his face is distorted.

Yuuri tries to calm down, _we’re at war... we’re at war..._ But all he can think about is how Victor’s file said he was a lawyer, where he’d gone to school, there were pictures of him surrounded by friends. That evidence was suppose to point him out as dangerous, mark him as an avian to keep under tight control, but now it made him human, gave Yuuri a story he couldn’t ignore. Yuuri notices the faint trail of blood that’s pooling just below where Victor’s head is resting.

“Stop them,” Yuuri hears himself say. His head is floating from his neck.

“Can’t.” Phichit’s eyes were slits, “It’ll look suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Stop them, anyway.” He reaches over, but Phichit slaps his hand down.

“Don’t. You’re not in charge here, I am. And if you do this, they’ll kill later in the day by rushing their work, afraid I’ll cut their time down. Victor’s strong enough for this, the doctors will get their blood lust out on him and there won’t be any deaths for the rest of the day. Do you understand?” Phichit whispers the last part into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri nods, and doesn’t close his eyes.

.

The first thing Victor feels is nothing, which is good. _Maybe I died, that would be good_. He shifts and feels the weight of his body, _nope, not dead._

Something warm touches his back, it helps with the pain. “Lilia? Thanks...” He stretches his wings a bit, but that does bring pain so he immediately lets them drop. His throat feels funny, like he’s had an intense coughing fit, for a month.

“I’m not Lilia.” the voice is subdued and quiet, but male, definitely not Lilia. Not Yuri. Not Otabek. Victor scrolls through the voices he knows, male, young, sounds a bit stupid.

“Glasses?” he rasps, there’s a fog going on in Victor’s mind that isn’t allowing him full use of his memories or thoughts.

“Don’t talk. You’ll blow the rest of your vocal cords. I did what I could, but... you just need time.”

Victor swallows hard as rage curls in his stomach, hot and hard, it explodes out of his limbs. Victor launches himself up and away from Glasses, not realizing he was on a bed. He squawks as he falls, and screeches as his back hits the floor. Victor tries not to move, blood stains his teeth and lips.

 Glasses runs over, pulling Victor onto his stomach as he rides out the wave of pain without retching, his vision pops with white bubbles. Glasses lays a warm towel over Victor and that helps so much that Victor wants to scream. Eventually, Victor can open his eyes without wanting to die, he stares at Glasses, crouched over him.

“My name’s Yuuri.”

Victor’s breaths come in hard and fast, he spits at Yuuri, managing to spray his knee with saliva and blood, but Glasses doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move.

“I know you all use morse code.”

Victor doesn’t flinch either, he wasn’t the best lawyer on the goddamned coast to do something so stupid as to react to bait.

“No idea. What you’re. Saying.” He manages to hiss through teeth that feel slimy and taste like iron.

Yuuri hesitates, but leaves him, coming back with a new heat soaked rag. Victor puts his head down as waves of relief radiate from the warm towel. “It’s just that... If you, and the other, did know morse code, that would make it easy to communicate without sound and stuff.”

“Spit it out,” growls Victor because there’s an ever increasing pool of blood forming under his head and he feels like someone has lovingly poured poison ivy through into his veins. That’s eloquent enough for now, certainly not his best, but Victor feels a compromise is in order.

Yuuri suddenly seemed _very_ nervous, he checks the locked door before laying a new hot towel on Victor. “If you’d like- Uh... I don’t mean ‘ _if’_ as in it’s up to me.... Because I am willing, but ‘If’ as in if you’d like me to uhm-” Words fail Yuuri, but Victor is ready to pounce, pushing past the pain in his throat.

“Oooh, I’m going to stop you _right_ there, and mention that although I do love romantic dinners and expensive wines, I am not at all interested in genocidal fascists.” And Victor has the satisfaction of seeing Yuuri stutter and scramble for words. “If you were even a halfway decent human being, I’d say I was flattered at the offer, but you’re a trash pile of a human being and I’m actually revolted.”

Yuuri is blushing with embarrassment and shame, and all he can do is mutter something in a different language before drudging his courage up to continue, “I can’t help you up, if you don’t let me. Unless you’re comfortable like this.”

Victor sneers at the attempted jab, but his throat feels too raw to speak so he just nods once, swallowing so much spit that it almost chokes him. And Victor isn’t sure what hurts him more, his flayed back or having to acknowledge to fucking _Glasses_ that he needs help. _Not eloquent at all,_ thinks Victor, but his pride will just have to deal for now.

Yuuri positions a box in front of Victor and helps him curl over it. Next is a chair, and Victor’s back almost gives out at that. Yuuri lets him rest until he’s ready to stand. Victor hisses through his teeth as he’s maneuvered upright and back into bed, Yuuri smothers him in hot towels, his neck his back even his thighs and Victor just _melts_ under them, the heat and relief from pain enough to make him feel drunk. And it’s embarrassing how Yuuri places curled towels under his hips and under his feet to keep his back perfectly straight and without any pressure points.

“Where’s Phichit? I want him.” Victor feels his voice quavering dangerously.

“He’s busy.” Yuuri gently straightens Victor’s wings and Victor recoils.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Sorry, I thought- nevermind.” Yuuri places a chair near Victor’s head, “Let me start over...Victor, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what happened here. Well, maybe I didn’t care? Or rather, it never occurred to me to look for it? But now.... What can I do to help?”

Yuuri waits, and at first Victor can only gawk until instinct kicks in, instincts honed over a lifetime of practice in front of hostile crowds. “I...We need to escape. Us ten, but obviously everyone else, even those pathetic sacks in R&D, eventually.”

And to Victor’s further astonishment, Yuuri nods, “Okay. That makes sense. I thought it’s what you might want, but I didn’t want to... I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to take over? Impose myself on you, after...after...” Yuuri stops talking, unsure how to explain.

“Makes, sense,” Victor grunts, repositioning his head and decides to try his luck, “Can you change the rags on my back? They’re getting cold.”

“Of course,” Yuuri dashes around the room and soon Victor’s back is warm again.

“You really didn’t know?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “I’ve only been here a few months.”

“And I’ve only been here less than twelve days,” says Victor, cynicism and blood heavy on his tongue.

Yuuri exhales as if impatient with Victor’s ire. “I know. I know. But we have to move quickly. What do you need?”

“Ah... Otabek’s the mastermind.” and Victor clamps his mouth shut, wondering if this was the moment he dooms Otabek to death, to worse. His throat is burning.

“Well, I don’t think Otabek would trust me with his scabs. So you’ll have to be intermediary.”

“How?” _So eloquent Nikiforov._ But the pain is creeping up on him again.

“You’re injured. I have to take care of you. It’s a double purpose. You get to run messages between the rest of your group and Phichit and I, and I get to make sure you heal.”

“Fine.” Victor almost relaxes when the memory of Otabek warning him about cameras slices through his drowsiness. Victor wrenches his head up to look at the ceiling, twisting his shoulder and back so that flames almost fog his vision.

“What are you doing?!” Yuuri presses Victor back down.

“There aren’t any cameras,” mutters Victor, collapsing again and Yuuri lays so many towels on Victor’s shoulder and neck that he feels suffocated, he throws some of them onto the ground and Yuuri wordlessly picks them up, laying them on Victor’s legs instead.

“Of course not, I’m not a moron.”

“Maybe not...” Victor huffs and eyes Yuuri warily, “Maybe I’d rather deal with Phichit.”

Yuuri takes his glasses off, “Phichit’s busy,” and Victor wishes he knew about that panicked guilty look Yuuri has as he says Phichit’s name, wants to twist that feeling into something useful, “So you’re stuck dealing with me.”

Victor’s ability to be polite was completely exhausted, “I’m tired. You can leave.”

“Of course. Here’s the call light. Don’t get up please. Seriously. I don’t want to tie you down and pretend that it’s the best solution when we both know it’s not. Just stay in bed. Okay?”

Victor was about to say something lascivious, but he’s too tired so he just nods. “Stay in bed, got it. When are you going to come back?”

“In a couple of hours. I need to talk with Phichit.” And he dims the lights before leaving, “Try to rest. You need to heal before anything happens.”

Victor closed his eyes, _Shit._


	4. From Cages to Encampments, The World's Still Gone to Hell

Even Phichit had to admit that Victor was a difficult patient at the best of times and an absolute terror when his temper was frayed. Despite that, Victor reliably relayed messages from the avians to Yuuri and Phichit to broker an escape plan. The plan they wrought was clever and complicated, requiring several distractions so the avians could escape via the wind tunnel, out into the sky and towards the east towards the desert where there was some sort of rebel encampment.

“I don’t understand why they want to go to a _desert_ , but who am I to judge? A honeymoon’s a honeymoon,” said Phichit.  City blocks flew by as they travelled from the thick snarl of forests where the met-sig detention center was located, to the thick snarl of sky scrapers and urban sprawl.

“It all seems a bit weird and convoluted though. Especially the thing they requested,” Yuuri hugs his backpack closer, “Seems like a dangerous thing to try to get for them. Are you sure about this Phichit?”

“Sure. Maybe they want an ace up their sleeve, look Yuuri, as long as the lovebirds get their way, aren’t we happy?”

The metaphor was getting on Yuuri’s nerves so he just nodded once and spent the rest of the train ride chewing his nails.

...

“When will I be done with the treatments? Are you really this inept that a sterile surgical site takes _weeks_ to heal?” Gingerly, Victor traces the snarl of indented and puckered skin on his back, wincing at how ugly it feels under his fingers, “This is a disaster. You’d think it would be easy to unfuck my skin, wouldn’t you?” Yuuri offers a non-committal grunt and nudges Victor’s fingers away. “Of course not. You won’t even say anything because apart from taking eons to heal, my skin is going to be grotesque, I have to applaud the literal salt in my wound.” By now Yuuri knows better than to try and lay a stray finger on Victor that isn’t absolutely necessary and backs away as soon as he’s done wrapping Victor’s back. “How does the scar look anyway? When will I be cleared to fly again? Answer me. Out loud. I know I have to clarify that because your wit has so far expressed itself as grunts and useless single-syllabic words.”

 “It’s not _one_ scar,” mutters Yuuri, stripping off the dirty gloves, “And I’d say a week.”

“One scar, you say? How absolutely perceptive of you!” snarls Victor, “Of course it’s not one fucking scar, it feels like a fucking canyon was rubber stamped across my back, now why don’t-”

Yuuri is saved because Phichit slips into the room, “I hate to interrupt you, but I have the thing you asked for.” He gives Yuuri a sympathetic look that says, _One of his bad days?_

Yuuri shrugs back, _When isn’t it a bad day in my presence?_

Victor carefully stands and painstakingly pulls on the jumpsuit back over his shoulders, zipping it to his throat where it automatically locks into place.

Yuuri leans against the counter, staring at his feet as Phichit tosses a lighter at Victor, it’s the size and shape of a squished plum. “Couldn’t find anything bigger, Chulanont?” Victor rolls it in his hands, “I can’t run around with this in my hands? How am I suppose to hide it?”

“I’m sure your ass won’t object to it,” says Phichit, slightly rankled, “It was the smallest model available that still promised to cut through swirled steal. Like you _asked_.”

Victor’s lip is curled and Yuuri steps forward, “Just keep it in your mouth, it’s not like I’m going to have a handler search you. And it’ll only be for a little while.”

“Fine.” Victor plays with the buttons, making a bright green flame leap out at varying degrees of intensity, “that’s believable.”

“Although if you keep quiet for too long, that _won’t_ be believable, so let’s make a beeline for the avian room,” says Yuuri.

Victor slits his eyes at Yuuri, “Keep talking, I love it when you dig your grave deeper.”

“Y _ik_ es,” says Phichit, “Yuuri, why don’t you go relieve Yelissa from babysitting duty for half an hour while I take this gentleman back to his cage.”

Yuuri doesn’t even say yes, he just walks out.

“So.” Phichit turns to Victor, “When are you all planning on pulling this thing?”

“Two weeks. Since I’m cleared to fly in a week.”

“You’re really going to try and fly out of here?” Phichit doesn’t sound hostile to Victor, just worried. “You know there are drones and one man planes right?”

“We know. Our plan takes those into account, it’s just safer for everyone to keep it on a need to know basis. Can we go? I’m dying to be thrown back into my tiny cell. Oh also,” says Victor as an afterthought, “Otabek wants everyone to practice flying as much as possible. So get us into the big net room tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, boss,” replies Phichit absently.

....

“Just wear it,” insists Yakov, “It’s for your own safety and my own peace of mind.”

Yuuri just sighs as Yakov lays the panic button across Yuuri’s shoulders, right before Yuuri can slip outside to the big net room and enjoy watching the avians fly around. Yuuri doesn’t like it, it’s heavy and the ball bearing necklace digs into his skin. “There’re inspections going on, aren’t there?”

Yakov groans, “The overlords have decided to grace us with their presence next week in the form of routine inspections.” Yakov scowls, as if having a routine inspection is an insult to him.

“We’ll be fine,” reassures Yuuri, “Our facility runs like a river.”

“Unpredictable?” scowls Yakov.

“ _Naturally_ ,” corrects Yuuri, “Without having to beat us over the head with panic buttons. It just flows.”

“Stick to science, Katsuki,” says Yakov tartly, “Leave metaphors to the bleeding hearts.”

Yuuri grimaces and steps outside, and immediately realizes something is wrong. Some of the avians are flying in erratic an unusual patterns, some aren’t flying at all. Yuuri spots Victor and Yuri standing together. That, at least, makes sense. Victor can’t fly and Yuri is still grappling with staying in the air. Still... Yuuri gives them fives minutes to start acting normally before he has to go investigate. He keys the timer onto his tablet and sits down to work.

When his timer chirps and everyone is still acting weird, Yuuri drags himself upright and approaches the knot of five avians huddled at the edge of the silvery net.

“What are you doing?”

Otabek stood, holding the little lighter in his hand, it’s going at full blast and there’s a hole in the netting. Yuuri feels faint and for a brief moment he realizes that there’s no alarm going on, none that he can hear at least, and that the avians are trying to escape _today_ and not in two fucking weeks.

That brief moment is shattered by a blow to his back and Yuuri falls to his knees, shoulders aching. He looks up and meets Victor’s eyes, who is absolutely about to kill him.

“Your grave.” says Victor triumphantly, and Yuuri can’t look away from the hatred carved deep into Victor’s face.

That’s when the sirens start and chaos descends.

Otabek pushes Victor aside and grabs Yuuri, yanking on the panic button and the chain cuts off the air. Yuuri digs his hands around the metal chain cutting into his throat, managing to pull it loose, Otabek snarls and twists Yuuri around.  There’s a team of masked guards descending onto the big net room along with Yakov. “Go!” Otabek’s order is immediately followed All of the avians follow Lilia out of the net room, all but Mila who ducks out of the net room to wait.

Otabek turns to face the oncoming guards who are armed, he’s breathing down Yuuri’s neck, speaking so quietly Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s English or Kazakh or Russian. But it doesn’t matter because now Otabek is screaming and yanking so hard on the chain that Yuuri chokes and there’s no air in his lungs.

Yakov is screaming too and suddenly Otabek grows silent, Yakov yells once more time and without a word, Otabek presses the lighter to Yuuri’s face. The metal is boiling hot and Yuuri screams, jerking away from the pain. A blister blooms on Yuuri’s jaw, his skin bubbles and stretches over the burn. Otabek twists the chain into Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri stumbles, his own weight cutting off more air.

“Let us go or I’ll kill him,” snarls Otabek, and on impulse he presses the lighter against Yuuri’s jaw again. Yuuri thrashes, but Otabek keeps a tight hold, the lighter’s nozzle melting Yuuri’s skin. “Let us go!” He rips the nozzle from Yuuri’s skin, and Yuuri pushes away from Otabek, even if the chain bites deeper into his neck. The masked guards take a step forward and Otabek flicks the lighter on to full blast, pointing it at Yuuri’s face.

“Fine!” yells Yakov, “Go!” But the murderous glint in Yakov’s eyes doesn’t convince Otabek. He flicks the lighter off.

“You know what? I think I’ll keep this little scientist as my pet, and if we’re followed...” Otabek clicks the lighter off and Yuuri’s neck unwillingly bends as Otabek pushes the nozzle into his jaw a third time.

Yuuri whites out, sagging against Otabek, he doesn’t scream, just stares ahead blankly, a teeth-shattering buzz overtaking him from the nape of his neck to the white hot fire of his jaw. Hes not sure how much time passes but the loamy forest dirt turns to concrete, turns to packed dirt and then loam again before he's dropped onto the ground.

Yuuri sprawls when someone kicks out his knees, he rolls in the rich, loamy earth, cupping his jaw, protecting it. He tenses for the next blow but it doesn’t come, instead there’s a sharp discussion going on above him.

“We need to leave him behind,” suggests Otabek, “He’s not part of the plan.

“I don’t know about just leaving him,” says Lilia.

“I agree.” says Victor, “If he’s dead he won’t cause trouble.”

“We’re not killing him,” scowls Mila, crossing her arms and glaring at Victor.

Lilia cuts the argument off, “Hush, I meant we can take his as a hostage. He’s a bargaining chip, and one that Yakov is fond of.” Lilia spits the name out with enough vitriol to condemn him to hell. Victor looks at Lilia, the question on his lips, but she continues speaking, “The only problem is who would carry him? Mila is strong enough, but we’ll be travelling for a while. Otabek?”

“No, I’m running point the entire way. Yes, I’m serious. Yes, I know it’s far away.”

Lilia huffs quietly.

“I could try,” offers Victor, but there’s doubt in him, “I’ve never really flown. Ever. Except in the net room, but what could Glasses weigh? 45 kilos while sopping wet?”

“What? _Never?_ ”

Everyone is staring at him in shock and Victor shrugs, a weird creeping shame making him want to turn away, “I’m offering to help. Take it or leave it.”

“I can’t carry him by myself!” says Mila, outraged, “Victor will help, or I’ll end up dropping Katsuki on his head.”

Victor shakes his head sadly, “Dropping him just sweetens the pot for me not helping. But I’ll help you carry him anyway, if you’d like. How far away are we going?”

Lilia shrugs, “Far enough where that sad sack will make a difference. Let’s get moving.”

Mila pulls Yuuri up by the shoulders, “Hey. Are you, like, awake and shit?”

Yuuri stares at her, bleary-eyed but his knees hold steady. “Good enough,” concedes Mila and wrap an arm around him.

...

By the time he snaps back to reality, the pain in his face is a dull ache now and it’s dark and very windy. Someone warm and definitely female is holding onto him tightly. Yuuri tries to wriggle away.

“Oh, I would _not_ do that if I were you.”

“M-Mila?” His jaw isn’t hurting anymore, it’s strangely numb in fact.

“Yup!”

“W-what?” Yuuri can’t grasp what the meaning of why Mila is holding him like a prized stuffed animal.

“Look down.”

And instead of trying to wriggle out of Mila’s grip, Yuuri yelps and hugs her to him in a death grip.

“Easy there boy,” grunts Mila, “Mind the goods.”

Yuuri shudders and loosens his grip minutely. He’s too terrified to feel embarrassed about squeezing Mila to himself like some kind of goddamned infant primate.

When the moon is halfway across the sky Yuuri has almost come to terms with the dizzying height and Mila’s cheerful complaining of how Yuuri is crushing her tits, he actually groaned when she used that word which only encouraged her more. Eventually she yells for Victor.

He glares at Yuuri and then asks, “So how are we doing this?”

“It’s simple,” says Mila, “You go long and I chuck the shmuck out into the abyss. Hopefully you catch him. Easy peasy.”

“No...” breathes Yuuri and then he catches Victor’s gaze, it’s almost peaceful.

“Ready?”

“No no no no no.”

“What was the plan again? You drop him and then I do a barrel roll?”

Yuuri bites back his screams as Mila releases him. It’s almost funny how calm Yuuri feels about being dropped by Mila, but how terrified he is of that steely gaze just below him. For that second that lasts three lifetimes, Yuuri is sure Victor isn’t going to catch him, but then it’s over and he’s safe. Mila whoops and motions a touch down for herself.

And Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with his hands, on instinct he’d wrapped them around Victor’s ribs because he’d always been tetchy about Yuuri touching his back. But now Victor isn’t saying anything about it. Mila gives Victor a thumbs up and flies ahead. For a few moments, Yuuri wonders if Victor is going to remain silent.

“You know,” starts Victor-

 _Here we go_ , and Yuuri prepares to be verbally lashed for the next few hours.

“-I had you pegged for a screamer. I’m disappointed.”

Yuuri doesn’t feel like arguing, he feels like asking Victor to drop him but knowing Victor, he’d probably comply. Also, asking for summary execution sounded too dramatic for Yuuri’s tastes anyway. So all Yuuri does is take deep breaths and count up to a three hundred in Japanese.

...

“Steady there Victor?” Mila swoops in close doing a lazy barrel roll.

“How much further,” asks Victor.

“Mm, a couple hours? Let me take him, you must be exhausted.”

Yuuri’s breath hisses through his teeth but Mila catches him and the unsettling tumble of his stomach stops. Victor’s flying steadies and he rubs his arms, “Definitely more than 50 kilos sopping wet.”

...

They fly low, so low that they’re dodging conifers as well as hills and cliffs. They land in a non-descript clearing as a new day breaks, Mila gently deposits Yuuri onto the loamy ground and Yuuri looks happy to huddle in on himself and shudder. Otabek roughly stands Yuuri up and they follow Lilia deeper into the hills and valleys.

Yuuri is grateful his face is still numb, but he can’t ignore the weird stretch he feels from cheek to neck. It’s disconcerting to say the least. He stumbled after Otabek, trying to keep pace with everyone and not catch anyone’s eye. It was ironic to be prisoner of the people he himself kept. It was a strange thing to be forced to look at the beings he thought of as less, and try to shift his deeply seated prejudices. Not that Yuuri would never admit to it, not even on pain of death, but he still doubted whether the avians were truly their own people. It was difficult to face, either they were below humans and Yuuri had been justified in keeping them as such, or Yuuri would have to face the weight of his choices. Right now it was easier to ignore everything in favor for the pain of his feet and legs as they hiked through the forest.

“Os?” a voice echoed through the forest, “Os?” To Yuuri it sounded like a bird or weird mammal.

“Os,” replied Lilia, “It’s me and a few others. And a prisoner.” Yuuri kept his eyes firmly down but thought that several avians were landing around them. The conversation switched languages, something Yuuri couldn’t place.

A pair of boots stopped in front of him and a hand roughly pulled his chin up. Yuuri yelped as fire licked it’s way around his face, but the hand gripped him tighter and turned his cheek.

“What happened?”

Yuuri’s eyes watered and he clung to the avian’s arms, trying to ease the pressure she placed on his face.

“We had to get out without being followed. This is one of their scientists.”

“Ah! A hostage. Well then.” And Yuuri’s face was yanked forward again, he dragged on the avian’s arms, silently begging to be let go. “Hmph!” And she released him.

Someone grabbed and lifted Yuuri up, leading him away.

Lilia watched as the scientist was lead away and then turned to Sara who had looked closely at Yuuri’s face. “He’s the reason we were able to get out.”

“Oh yes? The imprint is clear on his face,” Sara’s voice was mild, but there was something hard in her eyes that made Lilia pause. “In any case,” Sara looked around at the other avians, “You all look like shit. Go take a shower, a meal, and sleep, in whichever order pleases you the most. Otabek stay. No Mila, we will speak later.”

As soon as everyone left, Sara flicked the sturdy plastic and metal sculpture of Lilia’s new arm, “Well! You leave me here to run camp for almost seven months and you’ve come back to me having traded away your right eye for a better arm?”

Lilia grimaced, “I wish it had been my choice. Met-sig’s avian detention center isn’t kind.”

Sara turned to Otabek, “Opinions, Mr. Altin?”

Otabek looked at Lilia and then smiled wryly at Sarah, “It’s good to have a name again.”

Sara nodded slowly as if that comment cleared up any questions she might have had about the detention center. “Well, you two also look like shit. Lilia go to Celestino. No, don’t argue, you’re not in charge yet. Oh don’t give me that look, you know I never hated being a leader, but you’re so much better at it than I am. Just do as I say, please.”

Sara herded them to camp, ducking around a tumbled escarpment and behind a thick hanging wall of foliage.

....

Victor decided to shower first, it was heaven and he spent a ridiculous amount of time detangling his hair. Everyone stared at his back as Victor soaked under the hot water, but he was grateful that no one said anything...that almost no one said anything.

“That’s pretty badass.”

Victor looked up from drying his hair, making sure to scratch every inch of his scalp with the thin towel, “I beg your pardon?”

“Ooh, a fancy bird, are you? I’m Chris Giacometti. Those rakes on your back, it’s badass.”

“Victor... uh...” For a stupid second Victor panicked because he wanted to say 27, he swallowed that down. “Nikiforov.”

“You Russian?”

“Naturalized.”

“Ah,” and Chris went back to brushing his hair, “You’re the group that escaped Met-sig’s prison.”

“Yup.” Victor didn’t want to talk about it, he turned back down and continued to dry his hair.

“You want me to show you where the grub is, Vic?”

“Victor, and yes please.”

Chris chuckled, “Victor. You’re gonna lose that polite streak if you stay too long here. It’s a blue moon when someone doesn’t fall prey to the swears. Come on, your hair’s dry enough, I’m starving.” Chris felt bad for the thin, scarred mess of an avian that followed him, his shoulders are bowed and there’s a hard, unpleasant edge to his face. So Chris plies him with food and chatter until some of that slides away.

Victor doesn’t sleep that night, he just sits outside the dormitory, crouched by the door. It had been a long time since Victor didn’t feel scared or wound up, or that he had to carve his way through the world while constantly riding an adrenaline high. Except now he feels the crash of that, and it doesn’t let him sleep or relax, Victor isn’t sure how to interact with anyone. That hurts, but he aches in the weirdest places that have nothing to do with his feelings or limbs. Maybe he was just learning to move through the world again.

“Hey, you’ll catch your death of cold out here.”

“And right after I escaped from that hellhole, it would be a shame.” Victor didn’t laugh, but he acknowledged Chris’ presence with a tired smile.

“Something’s eating at you, buddy. What is it?”

Victor sighed, “Take your pick.” Chris slid into a crouch next to Victor and offered him a smoke which Victor refused.

Ah... Hm,” Chris narrowed his eyes at Victor, “You had a nice life before being captured and they broke you, in there. And now it’s all jumbled together, all the pieces of you, both past and present. How close did I get? Be harsh on my psychic abilities.”

Chris laughs at Victor’s face. “No. I’m not _actually_ psychic, your story just isn’t unique, in fact that’s everyone’s story. We grow up thinking, ‘ _not us, surely not’_ but then...” Chris shrugs and Victor sees his mouth twist, “I mean... my story’s pretty similar. But I think the worst is definitely Lilia’s”

“Oh yeah, the arm and eye thing is definitely-“

Chris waves the mutilations away with a careless hand, his eyes snap to Victor’s, searching. “You don’t know?”

“I guess not. All I know from Lilia is that she’s a ballerina.”

Chris rubs his cheek slowly, “Yes. She was famous back in her glory days. As famous then as she is notorious now. Do you know anything else?”

“Uh no.” Victor shivers in the night air, feeling apprehensive. There are only a few people walking around camp so late and they wave at Chris.

“She was married, and a ballerina, before she started molting for the first time. It was her husband that turned her in.”

Victor winced, “I see.”

“I believe you’ve met him,” muses Chris, “Yakov Feltsman.”

Victor felt his head swim, “The- _That_ Yakov Feltsman? The director? Holy shit.”

Chris nodded, “Story goes that he noticed her first feather before she even knew. He brought her to the det center on a tour, planning on keeping her there, but she managed to get away. Somehow.”

“Jesus.” Victor felt colder than ever, “They were in love and not even then.”

“Feltsman’s a piece of work, but then again so’s Lilia. She just happens to be a good person. Thank _God_ we have her.” Chris’ fervent tone makes Victor think that Lilia’s more than just a leader to everyone here, but he keeps his silence.

“Thanks. I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Alright. Say, doesn’t that earring bother you?”

“Oh.” Victor reached up, “I’d forgotten about it. I want it out.”

“Go to Celestino, the clinic’s always open, just wake him up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh definitely, he’ll rant and complain, but he hates sleeping anyway.”

...

The clinic is a building that looks like a hoarder’s wet dream, several beds are crammed between horrifyingly tall stacks of supplies and crates overflowing with saline bags and bottles of medicine. Idly, Victor picks one up, **narctic 500mg/1mL** , he puts it back down and gingerly picks his way through the mess. Several of the beds are occupied, Victor stops dead. Glasses is in one of the beds, sleeping with his face swaddled.

Victor’s on top of Glasses before he can reign back the fury licking up his throat, anger and helplessness he thought to bury forever rushed up and-

Yuuri shouts in pain as Victor squeezes his neck, jostling his face. Yuuri’s still clumsy with sleep, but he’s scrambling at Victor’s arms.

“ _You!”_ snarls Victor, he squeezes harder, fingers digging into Yuuri’s throat.

Yuuri tucks a leg in and kicks Victor who goes sprawling, knocking the impulse to strangle Yuuri out of his head. He just lays there, breathing hard and slowly stands up. Yuuri is still in bed and Victor sees why, there’s a shackle on Yuuri’s leg preventing him from even getting up. Victor should feel shame, and he does a little, but that’s tempered by the sweet irony of the role reversal.

“Pretty ironic,” says Victor, his eyes drip mirth and Yuuri shudders, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

“I was waiting for you,” says Yuuri quietly, barely moving his jaw, “I knew you’d come.”

“Did you?” Victor sneers at him just because he can, because he knows that no one’s going to hurt him for speaking his mind, “You expected a heart felt reunion, Glasses?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “I know what you’re here to do, so just- just do it. Quickly.”

“Oh my God, you thought-“ Victor steps back and laughs, not caring if he wakes anyone else, “You thought I was going to kill you?”

Yuuri drags his eyes up, they’re a solid and unwavering brown, “I know you want to.”

“Wanting and getting are two whole different animals, much like you and I.” Victor fingers the earring stamped with V27 and rips it out of his ear. Yuuri flinches and gapes up at Victor, staring at the bloody ruined lobe.

“Why?” he gasps, staring at him in horror, “Why?”

“To prove a point,” says Victor coolly and flicks the bloodied earring at Yuuri who shies away from it. Victor walks out, not caring that there’s blood dripping onto his shoulder.

....

“Wake up.” Yuuri jerks himself upright, almost head butting the medic, “Woah! Are you being hostile, sunshine?”

Yuuri shudders and softly touches his eyes.

“Is...is this blood?” the medic, Celestino, touches the sheets and Yuuri nods.

“Are you hurt?”

Yuuri shakes his head and Celestino tugs his hands down, “What happened?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“But the blood-“

“Isn’t mine. Can we... it’s not important.” Talking hurts so Yuuri stops.

Celestino sighs and says, “If you’re sure. But it’ll be on your head if you wake up with your throat slit. Now, let’s see your face.”

Celestino dumps his supplies on Yuuri’s lap and begins peeling back the bandages. Yuuri straightens the supplies out, squinting at the familiar labels and names, and tries not to think of Celestino flushing his wounds.

....

“Will it permanently affect him?”

Yuuri opens his eyes and sees Lilia, Mila, and Sara leaning over him as Celestino works on his face.

“Mm, if I did nothing definitely. These are third degree burns on his face, but with some mother cell he’ll be eating carrots and corn in no time.

“Are you awake?” Mila leaned in further and poked Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri clasped his hands tightly while Celestino applied mother cell sponges to his face.

Lilia took a chair next to Celestino and regarded Yuuri silently until Celestino had finished. “Give us a minute, Ciao Ciao?”

“Sure. Can I undo the shackles now that he isn’t hopped up on narctic?”

“Of course.” And Celestino releases the shackle from Yuuri’s ankle before leaving.

“So.” Lilia pulls out Yuuri’s identification from the detention center, she flips it from her palm to fingers and back again, “The way I see it, Yuuri Katsuki, you have two options: one is to fight us and we have to keep you locked up or two is to work here with Celestino. Your choice.”

Yuuri’s gaze darts from Sara to Lilia to the door where Celestino just left. “Here,” He croaks.

“Good. We’ll send along a guard of course.”

“Not Victor!” says Yuuri, his voice cracking and Sarah laughs harshly.

“Why not?”

Yuuri rubs his neck, trying to figure out a lie to tell, but then Sara lunges out of her chair, grabbing Yuuri’s shoulders.

“He came here last night,” said Sarah slowly, piecing the story together as she looked at Yuuri’s neck, “He tried to kill you. Didn’t he?” Lilia sucked in a breath, and it hissed between her teeth as both women looked closely at Yuuri’s neck. The bruises are soft, but in great contrast against the thin red line of the chain that cut into Yuuri’s skin yesterday.

“Yuri Plisetsky then,” says Sarah, “If only to keep him out of Otabek’s hair, he might pick up some useful skills here too.”

Lilia nods and raises her eyes from Yuuri’s neck to his eyes, “Listen carefully. Katsuki, Yuri may be assigned as your guard, but the responsibility of Yuri’s well being will also fall to you. _Anything_ that happens to that boy will land on your head doubled. Nod if you understand.”

Yuuri bowed his head and they left.

...

“All I am suggesting is that we could use what he knows to blow in, blow out. Easy as Pirozhki,” argued Otabek, “Besides, if we keep it to under twenty minutes and include-“

“We’re _not_ firebombing a civic center,” snarled Sarah, “God’s thumbs! I don’t know what happened at that detention center, but-“

“Enough to make us desperate,” said Lilia, her face cast in iron, “Besides, according to the reports you compiled, the civic center is currently under construction. We can split everyone up into two teams and take what we can from where we can, it’s a win-win. However, I can think of someplace better to destroy besides that civic center.”

“What?”

“The Orpheum Theatre. I think it’s time we destroyed that tacky hunk of brick and steel.”

Sarah and Otabek looked at one another. “Whatever floats your boat Lilia. When do you want to do this?”

“We’ll give Victor two weeks to learn the basics of not dying in the field and it’ll give us a chance to refine everything. Acceptable?”

Otabek nodded and Sarah sighed loudly, “Fine. But we’re going to end up killing him. Have you seen his wrists? Not combat material.”

“We’re not going to give him a gun,” scowled Lilia, “He’s going to be guiding us, that’s it.”

The door to the private meeting door slammed open and everyone jumped to their feet, Sarah yanking her gun out.

“He’s destroying everything!” Celestino stood before them, heaving and panting, “That fucking rogue piece of shit is tearing the clinic apart! And Yuri! Well the rogue’s got him-“

Otabek is out the door, leaving Sarah and Lilia and Celestino to catch up to him. Otabek’s mouth has gone dry, his pulse is punching up into his throat, he imagines Yuri in a pool of his own blood, eyes blank. He crashes through the door of the clinic and goes sprawling over the boxes and crates. Cursing, Otabek looks around the wrecked clinic. Boxes and crates are spilled into piles and the beds are upended. Otabek can _feel_ the adrenaline spike his breathing.

There’s a crash below his feet and Otabek runs for the stairs and basement, the fluorescents buzz horribly, but he spots Katsuki and launches himself into the air. They land in a tangle of arms and legs, but to Otabek’s surprise, Katsuki easily throws him off and is on his feet, fists curled. Yuuri’s eyes widen and he drops to his knees in surrender, Otabek growls and pulls out a knife.

“Yura!” Katsuki’s scream cracks through the air and Yuri calmly walks in from the next room, he drops the box in his hands.

“Otabek? What’s going on?” Yuri’s eyes flit from Yuuri to Otabek and back again.

Otabek licks his lips and they all turn to the crashes upstairs, Celestino and Sarah crowd down the stairs with Celestino blocking the doorway to the ground floor.

“You see? You see this disaster? Demons!” spits Celestino, “Traitors! My clinic is ruined!”

Yuuri seems to understand what’s happening because he lowers himself to the floor, breathing hard in relief. Otabek sheaths his knife and grips Yuri’s arm, dragging him upstairs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lilia quickly makes her way to Yuuri, looking caught between relieved and angry.

Yuuri gulped his mouth dry, unable to answer until Sarah places a foot on Yuuri’s back, “I’d answer quickly.”

“Reorganizing. It’s just... there was such a mess and things were expired-“

Celestino stomps down the stairs, “I _know_ they’re expired you _insufferable_ -!”

“Silence!” Sarah barks at Celestino who turned brick red and stomped back upstairs. She turns back to Yuuri, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I was bored and that my face hurt. I was thinking that maybe if I was down here I’d get some warning before someone else tried to kill me.” Yuuri rubbed his forehead, “Obviously I was wrong.”

Sarah huffed, laughing at him, “You’re an unknown and dangerous variable, Katsuki.”

Lilia’s laughter is derisive, “Dangerous? No.”

“Then why does everyone insist on keeping him under guard? It’s idiotic. What’s he going to do, run away into the forest and starve within the mountains?” Sarah gestured at Lilia, furious, “I understand you’ve got some grudge against him, but I you’ve also admitted that it was done from a place of ignorance, which doesn’t absolve him, but we also must make a choice. Either we throw him into a proper cell so we can ransom him for leverage or whatever, or we give him a new start.”

Both Lilia and Yuuri looked at one another, Yuuri dropped his gaze, face burning.

When Lilia still said nothing, Yuuri looked up at Sarah, feeling sure of this one thing at least, “I want to help. Here. But... I also need to get back home eventually, my roommate needs me. He’s all alone. And if I have to play hostage, well... That’s fine.” he looked down again for a moment before picking up the supplies he had been organizing.

...

Otabek steers Yuri down to the mess hall, still feeling the adrenaline high wearing off. He spots Victor and some tall avian with glossy brown wings sitting together and pushes Yuri down next to them.

“What were you thinking?”

Both Victor and the other avian turn to look at Otabek and Yuri.

“I was thinking I could help Katsuki reorganize the clinic. He had a point when he said it was dangerous and filthy.”

“When Ciao Ciao came running to us he was screaming about the scientist being a traitor,” explained Otabek. “I thought...” he shook his head, grimacing.

Yuri snorted, “I doubt Katsuki could do three push ups, Otabek. You’ve carried him, Victor. _You_ don’t think that scientist is dangerous, do you?”

“He doesn’t look like anything, but I think he knows some type of hand-to-hand combat, he has to.“

“Maybe you’re just arrogant,” snaps Otabek, “What were _you_ thinking? I can excuse Yuri’s actions because he’s young, but you had no right to barge into the clinic and attack him.”

“I didn’t barge in there _to_ attack him,” said Victor brightly, “Circumstances were just right for us to happen to bump into one another and I, _comment dit-on Christophe,_ took the bull by the horns or rather, the neck.”

Otabek glared at Victor, “You _fucking_ lunatic. Yuri, come on.” Victor watched Otabek and Yuri walk out and Chris laughed.

“You should be careful. Gossip and opinions spread fast.”

“I wouldn’t mind being considered a lunatic.” said Victor easily.

“How do you feel about reckless? Seriously, I wouldn’t pull another stunt like that again. You’re new, but surely you have to know this isn’t a prison. People who come to stay are allies.”

“Katsuki’s not our ally,” said Victor darkly, “He’s not going to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C:


	5. A New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love answering questions about the story, there are some interesting tidbits in the comments section.  
> Thank you so much for reading my story <3  
> I also have a tumblr if you want to chat. [Me](https://shepard-vas-normandy.tumblr.com/)

It’s a glorious morning, and Victor feels excellent, he’s wearing an ugly blue shirt that’s as soft as butter, real pants that are grass-stained, and a grimy beige overcoat that flaps in the wind. It’s great. He stomps, in ratty sneakers, over to the mess hall and enjoys a terrible cup of coffee. He savors it, the watery burnt taste sings of glory to Victor. _Fantastic._ He heaves a sigh and ruffles his wings, tickled by that simple action, he does it again.

“You look like you’re in love.” Chris lands in front of Victor looking grumpy, even his tawny-brown wings look disheveled, and he steals the rest of Victor’s coffee. Chris drags a hand through his curly brown hair, he clearly wasn’t a morning person

Victor carefully stretches his wings, making sure not to hit anyone and then snaps them shut before letting them hang comfortably above his shoulders, “I love this freedom! Sixteen years being afraid and the rest keeping these things tucked in tight!” He ruffles his feathers and then lets them smooth over. “I love it!” he says fiercely.

Chris doesn’t laugh, just smiles gently, “Welcome then, brother. And I hope you die before you’re caught again.”

Victor straightens. His first reaction is to recoil from what Chris has said, but Victor tastes the words, letting them curl around him. “I hope I die before I’m caught again.” He feels the idea settle down, likes it, he feels it’s true. He’d rather die than go back. “Thanks.”

Mila and Sarah sit down next to Chris, holding a double platter of food, they’re whispering and giggling together. Victor notices the desperate way Sarah is gripping Mila’s arm, as if afraid she’ll disappear. Katsuki slinks in next to them, making himself as small as possible, holding a tray of food.

“What are you doing today?” Chris digs into his breakfast and decides to ignore Mila and Sarah’s flirting.

“No idea, I’m suppose to talk to Lilia about what I can do here.” Victor fiddled with his fork.

“Ah! So you’re thinking of staying?” Chris squints at Victor, “Didn’t have you pegged as the rebellious type..”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” Victor tried not to glare at Katsuki and failed, “It’s either this or the slums.” Victor shuddered.

“Aw, the slums aren’t that bad,” said Chris with a grin, “You get used to the roaches and the smell eventually.” He laughed at the horrified look Victor gave him. “Someday you’ll find yourself eating garbage and you’ll think back to when you used to eat finger sandwiches in your penthouse suite,” Chris teases. Victor’s face twisted even further into disgust.

Chris thoughtfully glanced at the scientist, “What about you, Katsuki?

“Huh?”

“Are you coming or going?” Chris leaned forward.

Katsuki poked at his food, “I need to get back to my roommate.”

“A lover?” Chris leered at Katsuki who blushed and poked his food with more fervor, “No.”

“Why so worried then?” Chris tipped his head like a particularly curious cat.

Katsuki barely moved his lips as he spoke, “I’m not talking about him.” Mila glanced at Victor, but Victor couldn’t decipher her look.

“Anyway, Victor if you want to stay you have to pull your weight. You don’t see children or elders here, do you? Ignore Yuri, he’s a goddamned anomaly.”

“So this is purely the combat camp or something?” Victor put his utensils down, frowning, “No fight, no bed?”

“Something like that,” agreed Chris, turning to look at Katsuki, as if measuring him.

Sarah began clearing her tray, “Victor, if you want to be useful you can provide some much needed information about government building layouts. Katsuki, Lilia needs to speak with you after breakfast.” She stood, gently disentangling herself from Mila and motioned for Victor and Yuuri to follow him.

“Is it true Katsuki’s working at the clinic?” asked Victor quietly.

“Yeah, in the meantime, until we can get him back to the city.”

“You should just dump him in the forest,” said Victor darkly, “Let him starve.”

“I’m literally right here,” said Yuuri loudly, behind Victor.

“Like I said,” Victor raised his voice, “The forest would be kinder than he deserves.”

Sarah chuckled, “Simmer down, Nikiforov.”

Lilia waited for them inside the command center building, standing at a glass-topped tech desk that showed a rough 2D layout of downtown Met-Sig. She motioned for everyone to sit and shut down the tech desk.

“Katsuki, you said you wanted to get back to the city. We’ve made contact with Yakov, and he wants to buy your freedom.” Yuuri sucked in a breath.

Yuuri held on to his knees, something to keep him from floating away, or running, “Like ransom me? Why would he agree to something like that?”

Lilia rubbed her chin, “ You tell me, but he was desperate to make sure you were alive. You’d have to play the hostage, but I want you to know that we might have to hurt you.”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t think you understand. Yakov expects us to treat you badly.” Lilia looked concerned, of all things.

“I said I understood.” Yuuri forced himself to maintain eye contact with Lilia, “Do what you have to. I... I understand.”

Lilia crossed her arms, regarding Yuuri with a hard, level gaze. “Well, perhaps you do. Just remember that I tried to warn you, when this all goes to hell. Anyway, your job is simple, act pathetic and scared. Make Yakov think we’re willing to give you back, but only in return for grade-A supplies. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Lilia nodded, and turned to Victor, “You know the ins and outs of the judicial buildings right?”

“Yes. I basically lived in the offices. What do you need?”

Lilia sighed, “Information about the layout, anything you can remember really. And to guide us through the building, if possible. There’d be minimal danger for you.”

“You want me to show my face there?” Victor blanched, “No. Absolutely not. Not after they-” Suddenly breathing was impossible, his mouth tasted foul.

“Slow your breaths, Nikiforov.” Sarah’s voice was light, but firm, “Slow. We don’t have to do this mission with you. But you’d be an important asset. This mission is in a month, we’ll give you time to think it over.“

“I’m not a rebel.” Victor felt impossibly inexperienced and useless, sitting in front of Lilia and Sarah, “I don’t know how to fight or-“

Sarah pursed her lips, “We know. Believe me, this wasn’t our favorite plan. But it’s just safer for everyone if you’re there.”

“But-! But-!” Victor dragged his hands through his hair, “I _can’t_.”

Lilia snorted, “Relax. We won’t force you if you’re afraid. Just the info then.”

Victor saw the oh-so-subtle face Katsuki made.

“ _What.”_ Victor snapped around to face Katsuki, “What could you _possibly_ have to say.”

“Nothing.” Yuuri looked away, “It’s just these people have been sheltering you-“

“You are the _last_ person who gets to guilt trip me.” Victor felt he really could strangle the scientist.

“Enough!” snapped Lilia, “Katsuki, get out of my sight.”

Yuuri glared at Victor. Lilia hissed, “Out.” And Yuuri left.

“God! Can you _believe_ that?”

Lilia stared at Victor, “You have to keep your temper under control.”

“My temper isn’t the problem, _he is!_ ” Victor fumed, “I’d go on that mission if only to get out of camp,” growled Victor. Sarah chuckled, “Well the team would be only gone for a handful of days. If you’re truly on the fence about being a part of the mission, go to the morning training sessions, see if you like it. ”

“I’ll think about it.”

Victor makes it halfway across camp before Chris intercepts him, “You look pissed, bud!” Chris slings an arm around Victor and there’s a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath. “What’s eating at you?” The lunch rush is thick and they queue in line for food.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

“You stuck up snob,” laughed Chris, “So that frown, what’s that about?”

Victor pressed his fingers between his eyes, an old habit that always calmed him down, “Lilia and Sarah are trying to turn me into a rebel/ terrorist/ freedom fighter, pick your word. But I’m not-“ Victor pressed harder against his forehead, “I don’t want to do that.”

Chris looked thoughtful, “Well... what other skills do you have?”

“Does ice skating count?”

Chris laughs, “Definitely not. You’d be laughed right out of camp.”

Victor gave him a small smile, “Not even if I skate naked?”

“Although no one would object, Lilia and Sarah are both practical hardasses. Sorry bud.” Chris patted his shoulder in consolation, “Besides, what would you even do if you left? You’re too posh to eat roaches in the slums,” Victor shuddered, but Chris continued on blithely, “You’ll find your niche. Don’t worry.”

“What do you do?”

“Communications. I’m in the field quite a bit, never been shot at though, since I’m always hanging back with the medics.”

“I wish I could go home,” muttered Victor.

Chris didn’t say anything, just offered Victor a small flask which Victor thought about accepting, but refused. “Prude,” said Chris and took a swig, “But it looks like you’re determined to stay here, so...welcome to the cause.” Chris toasted him

Victor snorted, “I’ve _been_ helping with the cause, you ask _anyone_ involved in judiciary shit on the coast and they’ll know my name.”

“Careful,” said Chris, feeling smug, “You’ll start using _actual_ swear words soon. But I believe you, Mr. Hot shot!” and giggled. Victor had the good grace to laugh at himself too.

 ...

Yuuri found Mila and Sarah standing outside of the clinic. “Uhm, is everything okay?”

Mila gave Yuuri a blinding smile, “Oh, perfect! Think I can twist your arm for a job recommendation?”

“Sorry?”

“Well you know that everyone who stays in camp has to be useful, even me! And I’ve decided that I want to help out here in the clinic. You’re going to help me convince Ciao Ciao to make me an apprentice. There’s going to be a mission in a few days and... well I don’t want my old position, so I thought I’d become a medic,” Mila looked at Yuuri hopefully.

Yuuri wondered what previous position Mila held, and why she no longer wanted it. Surely it was easier than learning how to sew people up while under pressure, right? “I don’t know why you think you need my help. Just ask him for the position.”

“Cialdini’s an ornery troll, and it’s surprising that he likes you,” Sarah said, leaning against the wall, “He hasn’t let anyone be his apprentice in a long time. You’re one of the few whose wormed their way in.”

“I can see that. He’s never once offered to teach me anything,” admitted Yuuri, “Luckily his library is well stocked.” Yuuri opened the clinic door and motioned Mila inside, “Well, we might as well do this now, when he’s still too tired to fight back properly.”

“I’m confident that with your glowing job recommendation everything will work out.” Mila patted his cheek, “Or else I’ll send Victor to kill you.”

“I’m quaking in my shoes,” said Yuuri flatly which earned him a punch from Mila.

“I’ll see you later, sweetie,” said Sarah,” Since you’ve got this under control.”

Mila kissed Sarah and then turned back to Yuuri, carefully scrutinizing him, “Say. I’ve been dying to know...”

“What?” Yuuri stopped as well.

“Do you still think we’re animals?”

 _Here we go, I knew this was going to come up eventually_. “Of course not. What a question.” Yuuri shook his head, “I still have these awful thoughts occasionally... but I know they’re bullshit I heard from the TV or the radio... Lies. Propaganda.”

“Just like that?” asked Mila doubtfully, crossing her arms, her gaze became even sharper.

“I’m not as stupid as you think,” grumbled Yuuri, “I can admit when I’m wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.”

“Horribly,” agreed Mila, she tugged on her bangs, “Well... I know the others are still working through their feelings, but... you don’t have to tip toe around me anymore, Katsuki. If we’re going to work together then I’m going to accept your apology in good faith.”

Yuuri was shocked it was so easy for Mila to just let go of everything. “Just like that?” he asked, echoing her, “That easy?”

“Relax, of course not,” Mila said, grinning, “Just because I’m not actively looking for ways to kill you doesn’t mean we’re squared.”

“Right,” said Yuuri, feeling slightly relieved, “Is it weird to say I’m glad to not be off the hook so easily?”

“Very. Now... where’s that Ciao Ciao?”

They ended up cornering Celestino in the supply overflow closet, Yuuri demanding an apprentice and accusing Celestino of willful negligence. By the time Mila started in on him, Celestino had basically agreed, “I just don’t want some goddamned _hot head_ with access to narcotics and poisons!”

“I’m not a hot head!” said Mila, furious. “Okay, maybe I am! But I can work on it. Give me some time and I’ll be the _least_ hotheaded here, easy as pirozhki.”

“Hah! Good fucking luck with that. Katsuki would let a steamroller flatten him if it was driven by an avian.” Yuuri tried to protest, but Mila spoke over him.

“Drat.” Mila twisted her mouth, looking at Yuuri, “I’m just going to bully him until he snaps then. And _then_ I’ll be the least hot-headed of the three!”

“Celestino. Fire her.” Yuuri walked away from Celestino’s loud laughter.

Mila’s smile is self satisfied, “You _see?_ Already there’s some push back. My plan is flawless. I’ll see you tomorrow Yuuri, I have some things to talk about with Lilia and Sarah.”

Yuuri doesn’t miss the switch from his family name to his given. “Make sure to get here early so I can give you a crash course.” Mila wriggles her fingers at them and waltzes out the door.

Celestino laughed, “She’s barely an adult and she’s already quicker on her feet than you, Katsuki.”

“Oh be quiet,” Yuuri headed upstairs for some much needed peace and quiet. Mila decided to give him a chance at forgiveness, redemption even, it’s dizzying. But it just makes Yuuri worry more over Phichit, how his best friend is faring without him.

...

Yuuri is replacing unreadable medicine labels, gnawing at his lip and wondering if Phichit has stopped eating at all. It’s so early his brain is still foggy and his attention tunnels to just whatever bottle or box he happens to be holding. Otabek slides quietly into the clinic and eases himself onto a chair, curiously watching Yuuri work.

“What are you doing, Katsuki?”

No response.

“Hello? Katsuki?”

Nothing.

Otabek gets up and taps Katsuki’s head, “Ground control to space cadet.”

Yuuri drops the bottle of meds and pen, and whirls. Yuuri clutched at his throat.

“Scared you?”

“Guh,” said Yuuri, picking up the medicine and pen. Yuuri wanted to stay calm and pretend that Otabek’s presence wasn’t nerve wracking, but failed miserably.

“What are you doing that’s so interesting?”

Yuuri took a breath before answering, “Just relabeling meds. Throwing out expired ones. Do you need something? Are you hurt?”

Otabek shook his head, “No. Everything’s fine. We’ve got word back from Yakov.” Otabek folded his hands over his stomach, “Lilia and Sarah wanted me to ask one more time if you’re sure about this? Once Yakov sees you there’s no going back.”

“Yakov doesn’t know I’m alive?”

“Ahh... we’ve hinted that you might be dead, or at least that you’re hurt.”

Yuuri could guess what that meant, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t frightened, “No. I have to get back.” He touched his jaw.

“Don’t worry, this time we’re going to use make up.”

Yuuri snorted and Otabek might have smiled. “Make up?”

“You’ll see,” and that’s all Otabek would say.

...

Lilia watched Victor gingerly slide into the chair across from her, propping her cheek on three long fingers. “You’ve started going to the morning training sessions, I assume you’ve decided to stay.” Lilia’s desk was small and crowded. Victor’s gaze swept across the map that hung behind her, dots were connected by highlighted roads.

“Yes, I suppose I am staying. I’d like to be involved with communications.”

 Lilia didn’t hide her surprise, “You’d be in the field quite a bit. Are you sure you don’t want something less involved?”

Victor shook his head, “Everything else is either too boring or too dangerous. Comms is a good compromise.”

“If you say so. Just know that you’re free to go to the civilian camps at any time.”

“Thank you,” said Victor.

“Although comms is non-combat, you’ll still be in dangerous situations. We’ll try and keep you out of them, but... you just never know. No promises.” Victor nodded to show he understood.

The front door opened.

“You can go,” said Lilia, “Work with Chris from now on, okay? He’ll know what you need.”

“Of course he does,” said Victor, he got up and saw Otabek leading someone with a bag over their head into the inner rooms. “Is that-“

“None of your business,” said Lilia firmly and pushed Victor out.

...

Victor spent the day with Chris, trying to learn the basics of the radios and codes that were used across the different camps and outposts, how to know if someone was listening, and how to lose the eavesdropper. It was a headache, but Victor was used to reading boring and thick texts.

Chris stretched and slammed the binder of codes shut on them.

Startled, Victor leaned back, “Are you tired?”

“I need a break. Don’t you?” Chris got up and stretched, “It’s been a couple of hours. Up. Up!”

“Fine.” Reluctantly, Victor stood and followed Chris outside, he stretched and took a deep breath of wet dirt and mountain air, stretching his wings. It was still early afternoon but because of the mountains, shadows were already creeping in and the air Victor breathed was cold. The door to Lilia and Sarah’s command office opened and out stepped Otabek and Katsuki followed by Sarah. Sarah caught sight of Chris, “Come here for a minute, Giacometti. We need you to trace a call.” Chris groaned and waved Victor off.

Victor caught sight of Katsuki and sucked in a breath. “What the hell?” Katsuki had a black eye, a split lip, and blood soaking his collar.

“It’s not what you think,” said Otabek with a grin, “It’s make up.”

Yuuri scrubbed his eye and the painful purple bruise smeared onto his fingers. He held his smudged fingers out, “You were worried.”

Otabek choked back a laugh, “Katsuki, don’t-“

“You pretentious piece of shit-“ Victor took a step forward and Otabek pushed Yuuri back.

“Victor!” Otabek was doing a poor job of holding Victor back between his laughter.

Yuuri’s grin slid of his face, “It was a joke.” It was the wrong thing to say.

Victor snarled and lunged again for Yuuri’s arm. Otabek batted him off.

“What the hell-!” Sarah, Lilia, and Chris came out, drawn by the shouting. Sarah hooked her arms under Victor’s armpits and dragged him back.

“Easy there, Nikiforov. Easy. What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Victor here just can’t take a joke.” Otabek swept his hair back, “It’s understandable, considering everything.”

Victor relaxed enough that Sarah let him go.

Lilia’s voice was hard, “If I have to hear about another fight, I’m going to kick you to the civ camps, Victor. And you’re going into a cell, Katsuki. Understood?”

Victor wrinkled his nose and stalked off, Yuuri slumped and nodded.

...

Lilia watched Victor and Yuuri walk away. “We should’ve just left Katsuki behind. This is too much trouble.”

Sarah chuckled, “But Lilia, camp hasn’t been this lively in ages! Nikiforov will get over his little grudge, eventually. And we’re up one medic, two, considering he’s training Mila. Nikiforov might be a bastard to handle, but you told me as much even before this,” Sarah indicated the fight, “And from the info Lee smuggled to us, Nikiforov was a nuisance in the judiciary circuit, would have been a heavy hitter except for the avian soft spot.”

“I know his story,” said Lilia, irritated, tried waving Sarah away. But Sarah was undeterred, “He’s charming, he’s gregarious. You have to see it as well.”

Lilia’s laughter was rueful, “No matter what you tell _me_ , it won’t convince Victor to play spy in the slums.”

Sarah hummed, “It’s just so much potential going unused as a goddamned radio operator... At least he’s continuing the field training, even if he never uses it.”

“It’s not ideal,” said Lilia, “But having someone trained and on reserve, who’s charming when he wants to be...”

“It’s tempting,” said Sarah, grinning up at Lilia. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Lilia, resigned, “ I’ll think about talking to him. Enough about Victor, how do you feel about tomorrow’s mission?”

“It’ll be a cinch,” said Sarah cheerfully, “Come Friday we’ll have the building layouts to compare with Nikiforov and Lee’s intel.”

...

Usually, Yuuri woke up the soft chirping of his wrist watch, but this time, Celestino was the one who kicked the edge of his bed until he woke up.

“Wha-?” Yuuri scrambled up onto his knees, “Who’s hurt?”

“No one. You’re on baby sitting duty, get up.” Celestino stalked out of the tiny room Yuuri slept in surrounded by crates of medicines. Yuuri pulled on some pants and a sweater, not bothering with socks. Otabek and Mila waited for him.

“What’s going on?” Yuuri pushed his glasses on and blearily considered them. They looked wound up,  and they wore civilian clothes over their wings.

“We’re going on a mission.” Otabek grabbed Yuuri’s arm and dragged him out of the clinic, towards the entrance to the camp.

“What, me?” Yuuri was still trying to understand English.

“Don’t be stupid, Yuuri!” said Mila reproachfully, “You have no training whatsoever! It would be like sending you to your death.”

“Don’t want that,” said Otabek, with a grim smile.

“Don’t want that at all!” said Mila cheerfully, slinging her arm around Yuuri’s other side.

“I’m not fond of that idea either.” managed Yuuri, once he realized they were joking “What am I doing then?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on Yuri.”

“What? I don’t under-“

“I’m going on a mission today, Yuri always gets squirrelly, and tries to follow us.”

“Oh. And I’m-?”

“Baby sitting! Keep up Katsuki!” Mila squeezed Yuuri’s arm painfully.

Otabek jerked to a halt, “Listen up. Either you keep Yuri under control and _here,_ or your sorry existence ends. Get it?” He didn’t squeeze Yuuri’s arm, or glare at him, but Yuuri knew what Otabek was capable of.

“Crystal clear.”

“Keep Yuri busy until we come back. Two days.”

“ _Two_ days? How am I supposed to keep him entertained?”

“Give him real things to do. Maybe it’ll help if someone breaks a leg or something. Keep him _busy_.”

Yuuri groaned just as they came upon the rather large group of avians to see the team off.

“You’re not leaving without me!” said Yuri, clutching at Otabek’s arm, “Please don’t leave me!” He held onto a backpack and a large rusty kitchen knife.

Otabek sighed and took a knee, this made him shorter than gangly Yuri, but one couldn’t use height to scare someone like him. Otabek brought Yuri’s face down to his.

“Yuri, my sweet brother. You’re sixteen. You are a child, and I know you’re growing up fast.” Otabek firmly kept their foreheads touching, “ So I need you to be an adult about this one thing. You’ve seen more ugly things than most people here, which is why I want to keep you safe a little longer. I can’t take away your nightmares, Yuri, not all of them. But you can take some of _mine_ , can’t you? You’d do that for me, right?”

Yuri sniffled, his nose running. “Come back, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Not good enough.”

Otabek sighed, “Yuri...”

“I can be an adult. I _can_.” Yuri stepped back and Yuuri grabbed his shoulder, pulling him in, hesitantly wrapping an arm around his shoulders. And Yuri didn’t pull away, just bowed his head, continuing to cry.

Yuuri lead Yuri through camp, past the last building to where Yuuri knew the river bracketed the outermost buildings. The forest thinned out, allowing more sunlight to reach them. Yuuri didn’t stop until the only noises they could hear was the fauna and their own footsteps. Yuuri sat down and gingerly took Yuri’s knife, plunging it into the dirt, within easy reach for the boy. Yuuri took his shoes and socks off, rolling his pants up to the knee.

“Come sit with me, Yura. The water’s like ice.”

Yuri shook his head, but he did sit on the bank, a foot up from the water, while he watched Yuuri pick his way to a rock in the middle of the stream.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

Yuuri finds the question impossibly childish and his heart contracts with guilt, white hot guilt that makes him want to let the river carry him off. But that would be cowardly.

“You know him better than I do. But in my opinion, Otabek is smart and resilient. He _wants_ to come back, so he’ll work very hard to make you happy.”

“Yeah.” Yuri sniffed again and became very interested in the laces of his shoes. Yuuri kept his gaze averted towards the trees that scraped the sky above them. “Katsuki....why?”

“Hm?” Yuuri risks a look down, but Yuri still has his gaze glued to the floor.

“Why would you ever work for a place like the prison? You’re not stupid, I know you aren’t. And... And if you don’t give me a good reason... I’ll! I’ll kill you!” Yuri pulls out his favorite rusty kitchen knife and brandishes it at Yuuri.

Yuuri winces, “Can’t you just drown me? I think I’d rather be drowned than have to die from tetanus.” He chooses a rock dry enough to sit on.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Yuuri bends a knee, wrapping his arm around it, “Can’t you just accept that maybe I’m a bad person?”

“If you were you wouldn’t have let Otabek do that to you,” Yuri gestured to Yuuri’s face, “So.. do you have a reason other than a stable job or what.”

“I do. I wanted to help end the war, somehow. I didn’t want to use violence or to hurt anyone.”

Yuri scrapes his hair back, tying it away from his face, “You’re an idiot. But what else, you look like you’re holding back.”

Yuuri palms a pebble and tosses it into the river, “Don’t overestimate me,” said Yuuri, making Yuri snort.

“I’ll _stab_ you.”

Yuuri threw another small pebble into the river, “Maybe I’ll tell you if you promise to be good until Otabek comes back.”

“Maybe I won’t stab you if you tell me.” Yuri stood up, grabbed his knife and stalked to the edge of the river.

“Don’t make me laugh,” said Yuuri, realizing that the more Yuri focused on him, then the less the kid would spend fretting over Otabek. “You wouldn’t jump in, you go days without bathing.”

With practiced ease, Yuri jumped onto a rock, managing to stay dry. Yuuri still didn’t move, idly watching the kid hop closer, as if unconcerned. Yuuri braced his feet under himself, ready to leap out of the way.

“Hah!” Yuri leaps toward Yuuri, swiping the kitchen knife where Yuuri was sitting a moment before, but Yuuri is now in the middle of the river. Out of reach unless Yuri wants to get wet.

“This isn’t making me want to share my deepest, darkest secrets with you.” Yuuri laughed and waded out of the water, quickly slipping his shoes on, “Come on, I’ve left the Celestino alone for long enough. You want to learn how to stitch up cuts? Give injections?”

Yuri glared at him, and picked his way back to shore, “Fine.” They were almost at the clinic when Yuri spotted Victor and rushed over to chat with him. Yuuri hung back, unwilling to get closer, but also unwilling to let his charge out of sight. Victor looks up at him when Yuri says something, gesturing towards the clinic. Victor’s eyes are as icy as the river. Finally Yuri follows him into the clinic.

Yuuri managed to keep the teenager occupied with gross patients, pretending to have lost his glasses for a couple of hours, and antagonizing him. Yuri falls asleep around dawn, crashing on a clinic bed. Yuuri decides to sit outside on the porch with a lamp and a medical journal when he sees someone walk by in the dark gloom of dawn.

“Victor.”

He jerked to a halt. “What.”

Yuuri took a steadying breath and licked his lips, “I’m sorry. For being a part of ruining your life.

“You’re sorry. Wow.” Victor’s voice is dead, and in the darkness Yuuri can’t really be sure he hasn’t walked away.

“I know.” Yuuri can’t help but laugh, but he knows it sounds bitter. Knows he has no right to be bitter. “I know, right? It’s a joke, this apology. But I don’t think I’ve said it to you.”

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness.” And Victor’s voice makes Yuuri flinch.

“I wasn’t asking for your forgiveness,” Yuuri slowly rubbed his hands over his jeans, “Nevermind, I don’t know what I expected from you.”

Victor recovers enough to laugh, “What _did_ you expect? A heart felt acceptance?” He sneers, “Fat chance of that.”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri mutters more to himself.

“I get it,” says Victor suddenly, which surprises Yuuri, especially because he isn’t yelling. “You want to make up for what you’ve done. But I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to know anything about you. I don’t want your apologies.”

Yuuri sighed and sat back down in his chair, “You going to keep trying to kill me?”

“Are you going to stay away from me?”

“Obviously, if that’s what you want.” Yuuri waits but Victor doesn’t respond, just stands there. “I didn’t take you for a night owl.” Yuuri tries, testing Victor’s patience on purpose.

“Night owl? No, I usually get up at this time. Obviously you do too?”

“No, I haven’t gone to sleep.” The light is now grey and soupy, the fog making everything look half-dreamed. Victor doesn’t say anything else and just walks away.

Yuuri walks back into the clinic, finds Yuri still sleeping and crashes into his own bed after waking Celestino.

...

It’s past lunch time and Yuuri can’t find his responsibility anywhere in the clinic. Yuuri has a vision of Otabek coming after him with the lighter and shoving it down his throat. He runs to Celestino, “Where’s Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Mm? He probably got hungry, or bored of waiting for you.”

Yuuri dashes out of the clinic, pulling on his sweater and holding one shoe in his hand. He manages to get it on while running into the dormitory. It’s late enough that no one is in their bunk, he finds Yuri’s rusty kitchen knife on top of an unslept bed and Yuuri’s blood runs cold. “Shit.” He checks the mess hall, checks the laundry facilities, checks the food storage room. Finally he checks in with Lilia. “Do you think he left?”

Lilia shrugs, “Maybe. I’m honestly surprised it took you this long to lose him. He might be back later.”

“ _Might?_ ” Yuuri puts his hands together, “ _Please help me_.”

Lilia’s face softens into a smile, “Have you checked everywhere? The laundry building? Comms building? The river?”

“The river!” Yuuri dashes out of the door in a cold sweat, he almost makes it to the river, gets past the line of trees beyond camp, and he’s going to fast that Yuuri doesn’t realize he’s on the ground until he can’t breathe.

Yuuri’s gasping for air into lungs that suddenly won’t work, his vision tunnels and he clings onto the arms that are holding him down. He’s lifted and suddenly the world swims back into view.

“Where are you going so fast?”

Yuuri tries to place the voice, but the blood pulsing against his ears makes it difficult to figure out who. He rolls onto his knees. “Victor. I’m looking for Yuri. I thought you weren’t going to attack me anymore.”

Victor shrugs, unrepentant, “I thought you might be up to something fishy. Better safe than sorry.”

“Ugh,” Yuuri rubs the back of his head, dislodging twigs and pine needles.

“Yuri’s at the river, I’ve been keeping him busy. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri gets up, but Victor wrenches his arm back.

“Hold on a minute.”

“Let go of me!” Yuuri whirls, slamming his palm onto Victor’s elbow and twisting out of his grip. He takes off for the river, not bothering to look back.

“Katsuki?” Yuri is knee deep in the river, gaping at Yuuri’s face, he’s obviously been there a long time, there’s a sizeable dam being constructed. “You’re finally awake!” Yuri trudges out of the river, “Celestino kicked me out, saying I needed to go eat. Come on, I think I’m getting the hang of how to use that liquid skin thing.”


	6. It Was All a Set Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter looks completely different that when I first started. Thank God it’s done.
> 
> *Ollies out of here*
> 
> Alternative TItle: Oh God, Not the Face Again

The communications building is small and the shelves that crowd the two rooms make traversing the space hazardous. Which is why Victor flinches when Yuri barges in, swearing and weaving through the shelves to slam his palms on the tech table, making the hovering holograms in front of Victor’s sizzle and fracture.

“Yuri.” It’s a warning and a call to explain.

“I’m bored. Ciao Ciao is on shift and he kicked me out until Katsuki wakes up. What are you doing?” Yuri pulls up a chair, carelessly kicking a cardboard box to the floor. Victor eyes the box with a frown and turns the frown to Yuri, “So you decided your time would be better spent wrecking _my_ projects? You know these things are expensive and difficult to find, right? Chris would strangle you if he knew you just did that.” He waves to the box.

The bait worked, Yuri abandoned the chair and picked the box up, settling it on his knees. Victor goes back to his work, trying to figure out how to quickly shift from camp to camp on the system without blowing his ears out with feedback.

“What _is_ this?” Yuri pulls out the amorphous blob of wires and metal plates and chips. There are even more loose parts and screws and nubs of metal rolling around the bottom of the box. Yuri’s slim fingers pick through the jetsam at the bottom.

“It’s a portable encryption thing. According to Chris, if I manage to build it correctly, it will allow short range radio communication that’s encrypted. Met-Sig PD can scratch at our signal until they bleed and it won’t make a lick of a difference.”

“Huh.” Yuri turns the toaster-sized contraption in his hands, “How’s it going?”

“Not _that_ badly.” Victor turns his voice cheerful, “But I think I’m more book nerd than tech nerd. Please be careful with it.”

Yuri snorted, his face twisting into derision. “I bet I could do a better job than _you.”_

“I doubt it,” said Victor, grinning as he managed to get into contact with one of the civilian camps. He typed out a message, introducing himself.

“Hmph.” Yuri took the unfinished product and moved away to set it on the central table, straightening out cables and squinting at it sideways. “Where’s the repair manual for this junk?”

Victor frowned at him, tapping a nail against his teeth. “I don’t know... it’s pretty complicated stuff, Swallowtail.”

“I’m not asking for permission.” Yuri snarled and started pulling out booklets at random from the shelves, tossing them aside when they’re not the one he wants. “And stop calling me that stupid nickname.”

“Fine! Fine!” Victor jumped up and caught Yuri’s hand, “ Here. I’ll give you the repair book, just pick up the ones you threw.” He hustled into the inner room and quickly came out with a slim orange hand-bound book. “No wonder Celestino kicked you out, were you set on destroying the clinic too?”

Instead of responding, Yuri snatched the book from him and settled down to read, only talking to ask for clarification of something he didn’t understand.

Victor wondered when Katsuki would notice his charge was missing, but he never came around, and Victor didn’t want to interrupt Yuri’s peaceful work, so he said nothing. Nothing until he was hungry enough to be burping up empty air. “Yuri?”

“What.”

“It’s dinnertime, up with you.” Victor stood and stretched, lightly thumping his stomach, “I’m hungry.”

Yuri sighed, a long suffering sound of him humoring Victor’s capriciousness. “In a minute, I think I’ve almost figured this stupid thing out.”

“You can finish _after_ dinner, Swallowtail. Word of advice, letting your brain take a rest is just as important as slogging through the work. No arguing or I’ll get Katsuki in here.”

“Hah! Are you really stooping to ‘don’t make me tell your dad’ threats? Pathetic.” Yuri sneered at him, but he still got up and headed for the door.

Victor was surprised to see both Katsuki and Celestino at the mess hall, usually both medics ate in the clinic, Victor assumed to prevent losing any new patients that might be in trouble. Yuri slid in next to Katsuki and said something Victor didn’t catch, but it made Katsuki smile.

“Sure. I’ve got to problem with that. You’re not the first to realize it’s not for them.”

“What isn’t?” asked Victor before he could stop himself.

Katsuki kept his eyes on Yuri. “Being a medic. It’s not for everyone. At least _Mila_ hasn’t abandoned me. So are you going to betray me and switch to communications?”

Yuri scowled at him, “Yes. I already like the work better.”

“Sounds like you’re already working on something?”

“Short range encrypted radio,” said Yuri, eyes glittering with the challenge, “But I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it.”

Victor was shocked at the warmth in Katsuki’s voice, he sounded genuinely interested in what Yuri was saying.

“It’s good you’re taking a break, you don’t want to fry your brain.” Yuuri slid some of his food to Yuri who was still inhaling calories and nutrients that would alarm a bear.

Yuri wrinkled his nose and flicked a crumb at Katsuki, “Why don’t you take your own advice? You never go to sleep before sunrise.”

“Maybe when people stop getting hurt I’ll get a chance.”

Celestino grunted in agreement shoveling food into his mouth to rival Yuri.

Victor tuned out the rest of their conversation since it didn’t concern him, but when he left Yuri followed behind him.

“You’re not going to stay all night,” said Victor to Yuri as they entered the comms building.

“Oh, you were thinking of kicking me out?” asked Yuri, “Didn’t know you were down to fight me, you saggy dick.”

Victor laughed which only made Yuri snarl, “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I believe you,” said Victor, holding his hands out, his voice wobbling with suppressed laughter, “It’s just that-“

Yuri slammed the repair manual open, “I’m staying here until I hear Otabek’s nearby.” Victor gave him a hard smile but said nothing more.

It was several hours until Victor heard the chirp of an incoming message from the squad of avians, he glanced back at Yuri. The teenager had fallen asleep over the repair manual, snoring lightly.

“Base Camp?” Chris’ usually smooth voice sounded frizzled over Victor’s inexpert handling of the radio.

“This is base camp!”

Chris chuckled, “I know. Victor, two messages. Tell Lilia our ETA is four hours mission was a success. Two lost, four injured. Message two: For Ciao-”

“WHO?”

Victor squeaked in surprise when Yuri leapt on his back and yelled into the microphone. And for a terrible few seconds, there was no response from Chris.

“That you, Plisetsky? Otabek’s fine. The rest is not your business.” Chris’ voice is soft but firm.

 Yuri’s breath went from ragged to smooth within a few seconds, Victor pushed the kid off his back and jabbed a finger at the chair Yuri had just vacated.

“The other message?” prompted Victor.

“Tell Ciao Ciao that there are four injured, none life threatening, infection free. Suspected fractures in three.”

Victor repeated both messages back to Chris, then asked, “Where are you currently?”

“We’ve got a small station in the slums, just waiting for a ride back to camp.”

Victor wished them a speedy journey and closed the line. He dialed the clinic and the command center at the same time. Lilia answered first.

“Yes?”

“ETA is four hours for the squad, they succeeded.”

“Good.” There’s a palpable pause. “How many were lost.”

“Two lost. Four injured.”

Victor waited for Lilia to say something and when she remained silent, he said, “I still have to call the clinic.”

“Then do it.”

He dialed the clinic again and unconsciously frowned when Katsuki answered. “Yes?”

“The squad is inbound with injured, should arrive in four hours. Four people have non-life threatening injuries, three suspected fractures, with no infection.”

“No other specifics?”

“If I had them, I wouldn’t keep the to myself, would I?” Victor managed to keep his voice civil, but something must creep out because Katsuki’s voice is more subdued.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Dumb question.” And he hangs up on Victor.

...

Yuuri dithered for a second after hanging up on Victor, _probably shouldn’t have done that, it was rude._ For a wild moment he considered calling him back, but that plan sounds dumb even in his head. Instead Yuuri started prepping for the incoming injuries. He finds everything he needed except for the x-ray machine. Yuuri woke Celestino, “Sara’s squad is coming back, three hours until they arrive, but I can’t find the x-ray machine.”

Celestino struggled upright, “It should be at the comms building. Chris fixed it and just kept it stored at his place. Any specifics on the injuries?”

“No, just something useless about suspected fractures. Anything else I should pick up?”

“No. I’ll stay here in the meantime, maybe Lilia will know more.”

Yuuri nodded and pulled on his sweater before trotting down the stairs and out of the clinic, feeling electricity burning away the rest of his fatigue. It was dark outside, almost midnight, but Yuuri has no trouble navigating the camp. The untidy sprawl of buildings is by now familiar to him, and the moon provides some light, throwing the buildings in sharp contrast with the surrounding forest. Although none of the buildings were particularly small, the camp was still dwarfed by the rivers and trees immediately surrounding the camp, and by the mountains that stood like sentinels around the valley the camp snuggled in.

Yuuri made a beeline for the comms building and knocked, scuttling back when the door swung out.

“What do you need?” Victor’s face shifted from curious to neutral bordering on hostile, he crowded the doorway, obviously discouraging Yuuri from asking to come in.

“I need the x-ray machine stored somewhere in there. Chris fixed it and never gave it back.”

“Hm,” Victor turned away, “Come in. I’ll have to look for it.” Victor stomped away and Yuuri gingerly stepped inside the main room. Yuri was sitting at a table working on his radio, he looked up once but almost immediately went back to work.

“This your project?” Yuuri plucked at a wire and Yuri slaps his hand away.

“I don’t want you _breathing_ on my stuff, Katsuki.”

Yuuri backed away, opting to look at the junk and books crammed onto the endless shelves around the room. Most of it looks like it should be scrapped, but some of it looks expensive.

A few minutes later Victor emerged triumphant with a large plastic box, inside was a series of interconnected wands, a central base, and a carefully wrapped screen. “This it?”

Yuuri came forward, the machine resembled the basic structure that Yuuri was familiar with, but on a smaller scale. “Maybe.”

Victor’s lip curled, but sirens cut his response off. They all flinched as the fluorescents dimmed for a few seconds. The red emergency radio hanging over the tech desk blared to life as well, declaring, “Lockdown initiating. Use protocols: In Plain Sight. Repeat: Lockdown-“

They all looked to the ceiling for a few seconds before Yuri groaned. “Great! _Great!_ ”

Victor continued to squint at the ceiling, “I remember Chris talking about this.”

“Well call us in, and start the Lockdown protocols.” Yuri grabbed the radio and tried to hand it over.

“Right.” said Victor slowly. “Right.” He moved to the tech table, his fingers pausing over the keys.

“Victor...”Yuri’s voice remained calm, but it was clearly forced, his fingers trembling slightly.

“One minute, I just have to- Oh yes,” Victor’s face cleared and he quickly typed in several commands, the lights flicker again and they’re bathed in dark orange emergency strip lights. All of the computers shut off except the one which blinks in green.

<IN PLAIN SIGHT: INITIATING>

The windows and doors shuttered closed. The computer in front of Victor blinked.

<IN PLAIN SIGHT.... IR AND VISUAL SPOOFERS ACTIVATED>

A high-pitched whining sound made the hairs on Yuuri’s neck stand, before downgrading to a low hum.

<IN PLAIN SIGHT: BEGIN FOREST LOOP?>

Victor typed in <YES>, all the while Yuri looked over his shoulder. Yuri sighed in relief, “I thought we were done for.”

“Have some faith,” said Victor, giving him a crooked smile. He felt slightly shaken, not that he’d ever admit to such in present company. “I know what I’m doing.”

The look Yuri gives him is absolutely withering, “You don’t even know what’s going on.”

Victor shrugged, “An emergency, obviously. Chris did explain but, I’ve forgotten most of what he said. Something about being shielded from Met-Sig MP.” Victor flicked his eyes to Katsuki and quickly back to Yuri.

“Close enough,” said Yuri, sitting back down with a grunt, “Lockdown is usually done because of air raids. Probably because of whatever Sarah and Otabek’s team did.” Yuri turned to Katsuki, “Sit down, will you? You’re making me nervous just standing there.”

Victor took a chair opposite of Yuri and asked, “We might as well work on your radio, since we’re not going anywhere.”

With jerky movements, Katsuki pulled a chair up to the table. “How can I help?”

“No. You keep your fingers out of _my_ radio.” Yuri glared at him for a few seconds, “You don’t know anything about my radio.”

“Oh?” Victor laughed, “And here I thought I was going to tell Chris that I miraculously finished the radio all by myself.”

“Fat chance,” said Yuri, not sure whether to believe Victor. “It’s mine now. I’ll kill you if you try and take it.”

Katsuki snorted and picked up the repair manual, flipping through it. Yuuri quickly got bored of watching Yuri and Victor work so he sat on the floor and worked on figuring out the x-ray machine.

 “How long do these air raids usually last?” Victor got up to stretch, his legs aching from being tucked under his chair.

“A few hours.” said Yuri, stripping some wires and twisting them together. “Usually. Hopefully the firebombing doesn’t get too close or else we’ll have to move camp.”

“Firebombing? You’ve been through that?” asked Katsuki, looking up from where he’s x-raying his arm.

“What _haven’t_ I been through?” asked Yuri, which make Yuuri shut up.

Victor stretched again, but his limbs felt heavy, he twisted around to look at the time, past midnight, closer to 1. Yuri had fallen asleep a while ago, one arm tucked under his head, his other hand cradling a soldering gun. Yuuri had his nose buried in the x-ray machine manual he’d found, written in Chris’ neat block letters, and didn’t look like he was suffering from sleep deprivation.

Victor’s eyes felt so heavy, like he was blinking through mud. He was about to give up and let sleep claim him when the emergency radio crackled to life, “All clear. Repeat. All clear.”

The message startled Yuri out of sleep, “ ‘S over?” Yuri yawned, cracking his jaw.

“Yeah,” said Victor. “Leave the mess. I’ll clean it up.”

Yuri grimaced, “And never see it again? Not on your life, you asshole.” He carefully put his project back into the box they’d come in, slightly neater, more structured, and covered it all with the repair manual. Meanwhile, Victor terminated the lockdown protocols and the shutters rolled up from the windows and doors. Moonlight poured into the room.

“I’m going to sleep in my bed tonight, Katsuki,” said Yuri, his jaw cracking though a yawn, “I promise not to run away.” His voice was almost joking, his project box rattles under his arm.

“Cross your heart?”

“Yeah, yeah. Night Victor, Katsuki.”

“Good night, Swallowtail.”

“Good night, Yuri.” On instinct, Yuuri almost said good night to Victor, but even as he turned to look at him, the words dried up on his tongue. Instead he gave Victor a nod and turned away

“What. You’re not going to wish me sweet dreams too?” Victor’s voice was sharp and biting, he’d seen the impulse of Katsuki’s to bid him goodnight.

“Don’t worry,” sneered Yuuri, exhausted by the entire day, of being cooped up with those two for so long in such a tiny room. He has absolutely no patience left for the hollow-eyed man trying to bait him into an argument. “I’ll text you something steamy.”

If Victor was surprised, he quickly recovered, “You’d only disappoint, Katsuki, and the bar is already so low.”

Yuuri gave him a hard smile, showing no teeth, “So I’m meeting all of your standards then?”

Victor’s eyes widened, but his mouth curled into something sharp, and Yuuri knew that Victor was about to say something so vicious it could never be forgiven.

So he turned and ran, hugging the x-ray machine to his chest. His breath came in hot and cold by turns until he reached the clinic, slamming into the door, pawing it open and slumping inside, his heart pounding unpleasantly.

“Woah. I have to take a few points off for the landing,” Celestino laughed, then the smirk slid off his face, “You okay, kid?”

“Fine,” panted Yuuri, “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“Do?” Celestino blinked at him, “Nothing. Everything’s under control. Why don’t you go get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Yuuri picked himself off the floor, hoping he didn’t break the x-ray machine when he fell, “No. I can’t I just need-“

“You’re obsessive, you know that?” grumbled Celestino, “Go to bed. I’m serious. Sara and company won’t be here for a couple of hours, they were delayed by the air raids, which thank heaven, stayed far south of us.”

...

Their patients arrive in a huddle: Otabek with a makeshift crutch and a shoddily splinted leg, one avian with a sprained wrist another with a bent forearm, and Mila walking as if her entire torso is made of fractured glass.

Celestino and Yuuri decide to treat Otabek first, Celestino puts him under while Yuuri cuts his pants off and grabs several x-rays, “Femur, clean fracture, thank God. But it’s shifted by about two inches.”

“Fuck. Okay,” Celestino finished securing Otabek’s IV line, “I’ve got him on the standard juice- Fuck! Get out!” Celestino caught sight of Yuri sidling into Otabek’s curtained off area, “OUT!”

Yuuri grabs the kid and sits him down in the corner on a stool, “If you stay here and don’t get in the way you can stay.” Yuri’s jaw works up and down, visibly swallowing, “Okay.”

Yuuri leaves him and washes his hands before returning his attention to Otabek. Celestino and Yuuri spend several minutes tugging on Otabek’s limp form, with the x-ray machine humming and guiding their movements, until Otabek’s leg is aligned and Celestino injects him with phosphalite to promote bone growth. They wrap the limb in a sheath of lamb’s wool and then spray plaster over it to set the limb.

They’re both sweating by the end. “Take one last x-ray to make sure we haven’t fucked up and then take Mila. I’ll look at the other two patients.”

Yuuri washes his hands before turning to Yuri. “Watch over him okay?” Yuuri digs around in his pockets for the thermometer and hands it to Yuri, “Run this across Otabek’s forehead to check his temperature, a high temperature indicates infection. Come get me, okay?”

“Okay, how often should I?” Yuri is holding the thermometer like it’s made of gold.

“Uhm, once an hour, until I say so. Excuse me.”

Mila is standing by the bed she was given, holding herself high, her hands on her hips, taking very shallow breaths. Yuuri carefully closes the curtain behind him and studies Mila for a few seconds.

“Ribs?”

“Ribs,” confirmed Mila as Sara comes in, looking scraped up, but otherwise fine.

“What happened?” Yuuri hands Mila a cover-up and turns around so she can change with Sarah's helps.

“She wanted to play the fucking hero,” snarled Sarah.

“I’d like Mila’s version of the events.”

“I rolled onto some very mean rocks and also got kicked several times. That’s all. We wouldn’t have gotten out without me taking down that bastard. You can turn around, Katsuki.”

Yuuri immediately saw just how bad the bruises were, they decorated Mila’s back and stomach in braids of purple and black.

“You see Katsuki?” demanded Sarah, glaring at Mila, “If you even _think_ about being active around camp, I will _cut_ your ankles off, sweetheart.”

“Kinky,” purred Mila and then gasped when Yuuri gently pressed his fingers along her back.

“How bad was that? Scale 1-10.”

“Pretty bad,” admitted Mila, “8?” There was a sheen of sweat on her neck and her pulse was fast under Yuuri’s fingers.

“I’m going to bring the x-ray machine, just to make sure nothing’s punctured or moved.”

Mila nodded, suddenly looking pale and very young, “Am I going to need surgery?”

“No. This is going to require something much, much worse than surgery, for you at least.”

Both women looked sharply at him and he quickly continued speaking, “Rest. Lots of rest by the look of it. And pain meds. And maybe even some ice.” Sara let a sigh hiss through her teeth, but Mila shook her head with vehemence. “Rest?” asked Mila doubtfully. “Don’t know him. Don’t want to know him.”

Yuuri frowned, “Yes, rest.” He ducked out of the curtained area and returned with the x-ray machine under one arm and pills in his other hand, “Here, pain meds. Can’t really do anything with broken ribs except rest, meds, and ice.” He placed the pills into Mila’s hand and quickly swiped across Mila’s torso, squinting at the readouts that slowly spun in front of him.

“I can’t just do _nothing!_ Are you nuts?” She reached out to smack Yuuri who easily side stepped and Mila squawked in pain, her hand coming up to clutch at her side.

Sara chuckled and kissed Mila’s forehead, “Babe. You’ll do as Yuuri says or I’ll strap you down to a bed to make sure you don’t hurt yourself further.”

Yuuri noted the use of his given name, but remained silent when Mila laughed and then winced.

“Like I said, kinky.” Mila downed the pills, “Fine. I’ll go easy on both of you, but only because it just hurts so fucking much.”

“Don’t worry, the pills will help, and I’m going to bind your ribs too. You’ll stay the night, just to be safe.”

And with the bandages around her, Mila did breathe easier and even laid down without complaint. Sara followed Yuuri outside to the clinic’s porch.

“Is she really going to be okay?” Sara’s voice was muted, she looked tired and her shoulders curved inwards slightly now that they weren’t in front of Mila.

“Of course, fractured ribs can be serious but that’s rare. You _saw_ the x-ray film. I would have told Mila if she was on death’s door.” Yuuri allows himself a wry smile.

“Really?” Sara wrinkled her nose at him, “Even if she really was dying?”

The smile slid off his face. “I would never lie to a patient,” said Yuuri firmly, feeling unnerved that Sara would think him capable of something like that.

“In the field, sometimes it’s kinder to lie,” said Sara bitterly. “ Lilia’s out contacting the families of the two we lost.”

They looked at one another for a few seconds. Yuuri nodded slowly, knowing that nothing he said would help.

“We could have used a medic out there today. I’m not counting Mila yet because only knows the basics. And now _she’s_ out.” Sara rubbed her thigh slowly, kneading the muscle.

Yuuri looked out towards the forest, dawn was almost here and it was cold enough to make him shiver. “I could go, next time. Celestino’s too old.”

Sara’s laughter is sharp and unkind, “Otabek said you would volunteer, but I didn’t believe him. You’re so stupid,” she said, anger lacing her words, “Don’t you want to go back home? To your parents? Your siblings?”

Yuuri jerked his face away, as if slapped. And Sara sucked in a breath, of shock or surprise or realization, Yuuri isn’t sure. “Katsuki, how long were you at the detention center?”

Yuuri shook himself and went for the clinic’s door, not wanting to be alone with her, but Sara grabbed his shoulder, “Yuuri. This is important.”

“Five months.”

“No... you wouldn’t know then.” She sounded relieved and let him go. Yuuri left the porch, walking through the dark, not sure of where to head. Sara followed him, “So you _do_ have a family. You’re not the kinless monster that everyone thinks you are.” She tried to lighten her voice, but Yuuri was shaking.

“Ah... I said something I shouldn’t have.” Sara watched as Yuuri slumped against a building. “How many siblings?”

“None.” said Yuuri, willing to continue talking if it meant Sara had some sympathy for him.

“But-“

“None. Now.” said Yuuri through his teeth, he kept his face turned away.

“Yeah... me too,” said Sara, leaning on the wall next to him. “Were they avian?” asked Sara softly, rustling her own spotted wings.

Yuuri scoffed and turned his face down, hanging his head. Heavy footsteps sounded on the dirt path, headed towards them. They both looked towards the person, only their silhouette visible.

“Sara.” It was Victor, his voice equal parts question and statement, “Lilia says she needs you and Katsuki at the command center.”

“Do you know why?”

Victor glanced at Katsuki and then at Sara.

Sara cursed under her breath, “Of course it’s now. _Of course_. Tell Lilia to suck a dick.”

“I’d rather _you_ told her that,” said Victor delicately.

“Yuuri, go back to the clinic, don’t leave until I tell you it’s okay.”

“It’s Yakov isn’t it?” He glared at Sara, ignoring Victor, “Lilia said she was going to get another face to face soon. It’s him, _isn’t it_?”

“Have I told you that you’re stupid. You’re starting to get on my nerves. Yes, it’s probably another face to face with him.”

“Lilia’s waiting.” Victor took a few steps back and they followed him across camp, to the command center building. It was two floors and the biggest building in camp, also the most heavily fortified and armed. Yuuri and Victor waited in the conference room, but they could hear the loud argument between Sara and Lilia. Victor took a chair, but had to watch Katsuki pace the room, rubbing his arms and muttering under his breath.

Victor ran his knuckles across his jaw, _curiosity killed the cat, curiosity killed the cat._ “What was that all about?”  _Damn it all to hell, Victor. Curiosity killed the fucking cat._

“What was?”

“Why were you hiding away from everyone, talking with Sara?”

Katsuki squinted at him, as if trying to figure out what he wanted, and he was quiet for so long, Victor thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Sara wanted to know if I could help with the next mission, as medic,” lied Yuuri, unwilling to disclose patient information, or the _other_ conversation Sara and he hedged around.

“Will you?”

“I don’t know. I offered, that’s all.”

Sara emerged, “Katsuki.” She paused, looking between Victor and Yuuri, “I’m surprised you two could stand out here for two minutes without killing one another.” Lilia came out of the room behind Sara, looking grave.

“Ah, the eternal joys of being a fucking adult,” said Victor, flicking his bangs out of his face.

“Sara, take Nikiforov and make sure all civilian camps report in.” Lilia stared Sara down.

“I think Victor can handle checking in with all the civ camps, Lilia.”

Both Yuuri and Victor looked at Sara and then at Lilia, wondering why this felt like the continuation of their argument and a tense tennis match too.

Lilia clicked her jaw closed, “Very well. But you’ll be in front of the screen, I don’t want to see that demon.”

“With pleasure,” said Sara, all poisoned sweetness.

“Nikiforov, wait out here. Katsuki, follow.”

...

Yuuri was sat down in front of a screen with his wrists tied to the arm rests. Sara leaned on his arms, applying enough pressure to make Yuuri pay close attention, but not enough to hurt. “I have to punch you in front of Yakov so he thinks that we don’t care about your well being. This is literally the last second you have to back out and prove to me you’re not stupid.”

“I have to go back home,” said Yuuri, his mouth set at a defiant angle. Sara sighed, muttering, _idiot,_ under her breath and switched the screen on.

Yakov’s face blinked into existence, the screen was old and it distorted the picture, but it was Yakov again, in his office by the looks of it. “Yuuri! I’m glad to see you again.” Yakov looked haggard, the past twelve days hadn’t been kind to him.

“For now,” said Yuuri quietly, “When can I go home?”

“I’m working on it. Don’t worry. I’ll have you-“

Sara stepped into view and cracked Yuuri across his jaw, where the scars on his jaw were still healing. Yuuri gasped and sagged to one side, his glasses clattered somewhere on the floor.

“Enough!” barked Yakov, “You know that the negotiators won’t hand over anything if he’s hurt.” Yuuri struggled to right himself, his vision swimming. Despite that he could still hear the contempt and thinly veiled hatred in Yakov’s voice. It made Yuuri feel worse, Yakov _was_ a demon, even if Yuuri still wanted to think of Yakov as a friend. It was all very confusing for him.

“I’m glad the message got across,” said Sarah coolly, “This was your last view of your precious boy. You will pay up like we agreed, I’ll contact you with a where and a when. You have two weeks to confirm you have our supplies before I start leaving pieces of Yuuri Katsuki where you can find them.” She shut the computer screen off before Yakov could say anything else.

And it was Lilia who undid the straps on Yuuri’s wrists, “Are you alright?”

It was difficult to coordinate his neck while he couldn’t feel it, but Yuuri managed. “Can I go back to the clinic now?

“Yes, of course. Sara, will you help him get there?“

“No,” said Yuuri, “No. I don’t need your help.” Sara flinched when Yuuri said ‘your’, but she picked up his glasses and handed them back.

“But-“

Yuuri undid the other wrist restraint and stumbled out of the room, clutching his glasses.

“More make up?” asked Victor of the hand imprint on Katsuki’s face when Sara dropped into a chair next to him.

“No.” Sara sighed, “But it was for his own good. If it were up to Lilia or Otabek, they’d have stabbed him or something equally gross and horrifying.”

“Hm.” Victor rested his arms on the cool glass of the tech table, “So what do you need _me_ for?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just to check in with the other camps. Also to tell you that there’s going to be a pick up of supplies in a week and Chris is going to be gone for eight days or so, think you can hold down the fort for that long?”

“Of course” said Victor, “I’ll make sure to be ready by then.”

“Great!” said Sara, “It’s a bit much, I know, handling communications across several camps, but the alternative is going on a mission, which you don’t want.”

“Definitely not,” said Victor, smiling in relief, “Thanks for the heads up.”

Sara nodded and Victor took that as his cue to leave. If he was going to be left alone for more than a week, he’d better bone up on the way things worked, unless he wanted to accidentally broadcast their whereabouts to the Met-Sig authorities. Vaguely he wondered if Katsuki would still be so excited to play rebel medic with a knife through his hand, probably not.


	7. Tilt-Shifted Nihilism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courtesy of [My friend.](http://sheilatakesabow.tumblr.com/)  
> The alternative title is: Yuri on High
> 
> Which I laughed at for a good minute
> 
>  
> 
> Take your meds as scheduled, kids. They’re important.

Lilia gracefully slid into a chair, only letting her back curve the barest degree as she traced her fingers across the glass of the tech table, bringing it to life. She silently scrolled through the categorized information, calling up a list of assets scattered across the region.

“You’re not going to say anything? At all?” Sara rested her elbows on the tech table, “What do you _really_ think about throwing Katsuki back to Yakov?”

“I have no interest in talking about Katsuki _or_ that demon,” said Lilia, her voice clipped, “Except to say that the sooner we get him back to polite society, the easier I’ll rest.”

Sara was genuinely surprised, “I know you don’t like him, but why are you so eager to get rid of half our clinic staff? Just as the camp is starting to trust him? Usually you’re more neutral about taking in wayward strays. Remember that girl, what was her name? Marissa? Maribel? Maria? Mari something.”

Lilia scrolls through the information she has pulled up, scrutinizing each entry before discarding it for the next candidate. “That poor woman,” is Lilia’s only response, “I never felt cold about her... You don’t think she and Katsuki are related do you? What was her family name?” Lilia’s gaze fuzzes as she casts her mind back.

“What about her? And no, I don’t remember her family name. Don’t you think it’s racist to wonder if she and Katsuki are related? Besides, her accent was almost indecipherable, while Katsuki hardly has one. And I don’t really remember what she looks like, except that she was Asian. Now spill it Lilia, why does Katsuki itch under your skin?”

Lilia pursed her lips, “Several reasons: the demon likes him, I have no eye, I have no arm. That’s reason enough.”

“But you _do_ have an arm.” pointed out Sara.

“An uncomfortable arm that aches and hurts even though I know it shouldn’t hurt at all. A reminder of what happened to me,” said Lilia, her voice harsh and cold. She looked away, a snarl on her lips, cursing under her breath.

Sara’s eyes widened in shock at Lilia’s loss of composure, Lilia _never_ lost control, for any reason. Sara remained silent, letting Lilia regain herself. “I’m such a hypocrite. I’ve been reproaching Victor for the grudge he holds against Katsuki, but here _I_ am, unable to control-“

“Stop right there,” said Sara, “I _won’t_ sit here while you pretend that you don’t deserve to have emotions. For God’s sake, Lilia. One of these days you’ll bust an artery because of all the pressure.” Sara slapped the tech desk.

Lilia had the grace to look flustered, “Very well.” She swiped her hand across the tech table, finding a candidate she liked and pulling up further details. “Did you speak to Katsuki about standing in as medic until Mila is more experienced?”

“He was almost too eager,” growled Sara which brought Lilia’s attention up from the tech table. Sara fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket, “I just didn’t expect him to agree.“

Lilia grimaced, “It seems guilt is a heavy burden for Katsuki. We can use that to our advantage.”

“It’s just a shame to waste his talent, just so he can go be comfortable in the city and under the demon’s thumb.” Sara doesn’t mean to make her voice sharp, and Lilia purses her lips, going back to her work. “Oh Lilia,” said Sara, regretfully, “I’m sorry for how I said that.“

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is cultivating him as an asset.”

“Wait a minute!” said Sara, holding out her hand, “You want to turn him into an asset? _Katsuki?_ I liked your previous idea of making Victor an asset more. Victor’s at least a people person.”

“Maybe that will be how he slips under the radar,” reasoned Lilia, “You cannot deny Katsuki won’t be dedicated.”

Sara’s laughter was hollow, “No, I can’t.”

“Which is why you will convince him to stay in contact.” With a flourish uncharacteristic of her, Lilia spun the profile so Sara could read it. “And here would be Katsuki’s target: meet Yuuko and Takeshi Nishigori, from a quantified, pure human blood line. Yakov favors Katsuki and since Yakov runs in the same social circles as the Nishigoris, they’re bound to meet. Katsuki will recruit the Nishigoris to our cause.”

Sara whistled, low and admiring, “Recruited for what reason? Assassination? A coup?”

“Spare me your dramatics, Crispino.” Lilia paused, giving Sara a small smile.

“But-“ Sara struggled to connect the dots, “Why would they ever agree?”

“Their daughters were... recruited into the World Council’s Vetted Genomics experiment.” Lilia’s eyes glint, “They were furious about it. Discrete and quiet fury, but the sentiments existed, and may still exist.”

Sara keeps her mouth from falling open, “How do you know all of this?”

“It was before I first showed signs of the ‘avian sickness’.” Lilia’s neck is arched towards the profile hanging in the air, her face washed out in the blue glow, “I knew of the Nishigoris’ situation through Yakov.”

Sara has fifty other questions, but those can wait. “And how would these society elite help us exactly? They don’t look ready for guerilla warfare.”

Both women look up at Yuuko and Takeshi Nishigori. Sara considers Yuuko’s heart-shaped face in contrast with Takeshi’s square one.

“Information. Access to important places. Things like that, I don’t want to place the Nishigoris in any danger, not while there is the possibility of reuniting them with their daughters.”

Sara paced around the tech table, squinting at the profiles of the Nishigoris, “Are you _sure_ they’ll sympathize. Because if Katsuki exposes himself...”

“Katsuki will simply have to take that chance, the Nishigoris will _want_ help us because of their daughters. Any other feelings they have towards avians will be irrelevant.” Lilia paced, footsteps light but measured, her face frozen into something akin to hunger or hatred.

...

Celestino must like him a lot more than Yuuri realized because it’s well past his shift change when Yuuri wakes up. He blindly gropes for his phone before remembering it’s gone. Yuuri still feels disoriented and slightly lost without it, but luckily his work keeps him busy. Two weeks without his phone seems like an eternity, and two weeks without Phichit is hell, especially since he doesn’t know if Phichit’s safe.

He takes a deep breath, willing the unexpected feeling of dread in his stomach to sink down lower, to a place where he can ignore it, for now at least. Why was he feeling like this?

 _Oh fuck. My medicine._ He touched his sternum, _that’s what it is. It’s not me at all, my medicine’s just run out._ Yuuri runs his knuckles over his chest, trying to count back the days. He should have changed his patch eight days ago. _That’s why I’ve been feeling like this._ He sat up, stretching out some of the tension, he was relieved to explain away the sour dread that had been steadily building. Yuuri pulled his shirt off and peeled the medicine patch from his sternum.

 _Stupid_. He has unfettered access to whatever medication he might need, he feels so stupid for forgetting. Yuuri knuckles his sternum, feeling the crest of uneasiness wash over him. _Thank God for modern medicine_. He sighed, the sooner he could find  a replacement, the better. He digs around his small luggage bag for clothes.

The basement is cold and Yuuri shivers as he paws through stacks of cartridges and bottles.

“What in the seven devils are you doing down here?” Celestino sounded exhausted as he climbed down the stairs.

“Sorry, I know I’m late. But I needed to find- Yes! I am _so_ glad I organized everything those first few days.” He holds up a slim dispenser like a trophy.

Curious, Celestino stomps down the stairs to join Yuuri, “What’ve you got there?”

“Anxiety medication.” Yuuri squints at the dosage and slices the patch in half.

“Huh,” Celestino closed his eyes, brow furrowed in thought, “None of our current patients need it. Did someone request it?”

Yuuri peeled the patch from its paper backing and tugged his collar down to smooth the patch onto his chest, “It’s for me. I usually use the other brand, but I hope these’ll work until I get home.”

Celestino eyed him, as if reevaluating Yuuri, “I would have never guessed.”

Yuuri laughed, “That’s the point isn’t it? So I can pretend to be a normally functioning human being?”

“Ah. Do you need some time to recoup? How long have you been going without your patch?” Celestino’s voice turns severe.

Yuuri blinks up at him, a little bewildered by the concern in the words, if not the tone of voice. “No, that’s alright. If I keep busy and my mind on someone else I’ll be fine until the medicine kicks in. I only remembered it because I wasn’t busy. This patch should last me until I get ransomed.” Yuuri’s laughter is turned on himself, depreciative.

“So.” Celestino’s voice pinches closed, anger making his stance stiff, “You’re really hell bent on going back to that place.”

Yuuri offers up a mental prayer to whatever deity likes him best that the dip in medication or the change in formula doesn’t fuck him up too badly. He should be fine as long as he doesn’t mix any other medication in until he plateaus, not even headache sprays or cough drops. “Of course not, but-“

“Selfish!” said Celestino, “Selfish! Selfish! I’m going to bed, if anyone so much as gets an unnecessary hangnail within my walls, I’ll wring your neck.”

Yuuri smiles, which makes Celestino angrier and he stomps all the way upstairs to his bed. Ever since he’d arrived, Yuuri had harbored the secret fear he’d wind up dead in an unmarked grave, if any of the avians he used to care for had any opinions in the manner. But here he was, with a promise of returning home to Phichit, relatively unharmed. And apparently Celestino liked him enough to be furious at his leaving, that was something Yuuri hadn’t expected. Yuuri shook himself and grabbed a few supplies before heading upstairs, carefully closing and locking the door behind him.

He checks on Otabek first. A new x-ray film shows the bone well on its way to knitting together, Yuuri injects him with one last dose of antibacterial before moving away. A new admit with a high fever is tossing and turning, and her bedsheets are dirty so Yuuri moves her to a new empty bed and strips the old bed. He gives her medicine and some fortified water to drink. Mila is awake, holding a computer slate.

“What are you reading?” Yuuri slides into the chair next to her bed and Mila tips the slate, Yuuri catches a few lines of lascivious bedroom behavior. “Oh my God.”

Mila giggled and Yuuri pretended to be disgusted. “I’m absolutely shocked! Shocked, I repeat,” said Yuuri, pretending offense. “But anyway, are you in any pain? Give me a number.”

“Don’t pretend that I have sullied your eyes! You’re not a virgin are you?” Mila wrinkled her nose at him.

“Pain.” repeated Yuuri, unimpressed by Mila’s teasing.

“5/10? Now tell me! I’m dying to know!”

Yuuri peeled a pill out of its package and held it out, “Tongue.”

Mila obediently opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out more than necessary, the pill dissolved almost instantly. “Spill, Katsuki! I’ve only recently started having sex so I’m morbidly interested in everyone else’s sex life.”

“Oh God, have you even had the sex talk about protection?”

Mila’s eyes sparkle with mischief, “Isn’t it too late, though? Besides I’m a lesbian.”

“Still... If I had the energy I’d make you download a pamphlet or something,” said Yuuri and Mila laughed.

“At least tell me about you! Pleaaaase.” Mila batted her eyelashes, wheedling him as one might an elder sibling.

 The smile slipped off Yuuri’s face; he’s suddenly drowning in memories he hadn’t scratched in years. He feels himself flush, his heart contracts painfully.

“Are you alright?” Mila drops her act, and tries to pat his shoulder. “Yuuri?”

“Did I say something?”

 _Old griefs are weird,_ thinks Yuuri as he tries to pull himself together fast enough so Mila doesn’t freak out. “S-sorry. I don’t- It’s not your fault- I just-“ Yuuri palms the place on his shirt where the patch lies. He forces a smile and decides that honesty might just stop her from asking more questions. “No, just mood meds kicking in.”

“Oh.” Mila’s face melts from quizzical to something smooth and unreadable, “I suppose you _would_ have to take them, considering your work here.”

“Please, I’ve been on them for years. It was college that jump started my addiction,” said Yuuri, offering Mila a reassuring smile. His panic receded enough for him to not burst out crying.

Mila rolled her eyes, “Well I never went to college, barely finished high school, ya know?”

“Sucks, well maybe after the war you can go back to school,” said Yuuri, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

“Assuming the war ends before I’m old and decrepit, _and_ that we win? It might be a while.”

“We’ll win,” said Yuuri, clicking through the programs on his computer, keeping his hands busy.

“Think so? Sometimes it’s hard to believe it. Especially after everything at the prison,” Mila pins him with her bright stare.

Yuuri puts down the computer slate, “You know I’m ashamed of-”

“I know you are” said Mila, irritated, “That’s old news, shmold shnews. You’re not _really_ going back, are you? To there?”

“Fuck no. I never want to step foot in there again. It’s just my roommate needs me, he wasn’t in a good place when-“

“When we kidnapped you?” asked Mila, voice arch and teasing.

But Yuuri remained somber. “Yes. I’m afraid of what could happen to him. He really needs my help.”

“No other reason? He’s not you _lover_ is he? Or were you planning on betraying us all?” Mila threw a hand over her eyes in distress.

Yuuri grinned at her, “Oh drat, you’ve guessed my plan!”

Mila’s laughter is sharp and she holds her side, “Oh nooo, I’m quaking in my socks.”

“You should be!” retorted Yuuri, “Don’t you know I’m only here to gather intel. I’ve also built a bomb and hidden it in the basement.”

Mila sputtered and wrapped her arms around herself, “S-stop! My ribs! Oh God, Katsuki, I’m going to spit in all of your food. Make me stop laughing.”

Yuuri felt unexpectedly pleased. “Well, here’s something terribly unfunny. Did you know Victor has a nickname for Yuri Plisetsky? And it’s incredibly cute?”

“The nickname or nicknamer?” Mila howled with laughter.

Yuuri sucked air through his teeth, “Well, I _was_ going to tell you what it was, but since you’re hell bent on pissing me off-“ Yuuri walked away, nose in the air.

Mila slid off the bed and shuffled after Yuuri. “I’ll kill you Katsuki! I swear if you don’t tell me!”

“What’s going on?”

Mila and Yuuri turned towards Otabek who was hanging off the edge of his bed, eyes sliding from Mila to Yuuri.

Mila waved Otabek away with an imperious flap of her hand, “Go back to bed! I’m fine! Just teasing Yuuri. Not that you would know a joke if it sucked your dick, Beka.”

Otabek gaped at Mila and she laughed at his expense.

Yuuri winced, “Otabek. Please get back into bed, you could hurt your leg.” He managed to pry Mila’s grip from his arms. “Mila, let go. I need to check on him.”

Yuuri’s luck holds because Yuri arrives, distracting both Mila and Otabek. And then shortly after, Celestino stumbles downstairs, kicking Yuri out and sitting Mila down to one last check before discharging her.

The clinic door slammed open and Chris stumbled in, his left hand looking oddly twisted, a spray of blood on his neck and collar, “Celestino. Yuuri. Accident. Lumber rig,” his voice is oddly flat without inflection, “Your radio? Call Lilia. I’ll.” Chris kept his hand stretched out at an awkward angle, his eyes firmly away from his injury.

Yuuri snatched up their radio and handed it to Chris.

Celestino grabbed two bags and threw one to Yuuri, “Let’s go, Katsuki. Chris, just find a bed. You’ll have to wait.”

“Right!” Yuuri’s mind took a moment to shift, the lazy morning in combination with the change in medication had dulled him. Celestino ran through the clinic, throwing supplies into his bag while Yuuri ran into the basement. He stuffed bandages, mother cell powder, skin glue, and other necessities into his bag.

Mila lurched down the stairs after him, “Yuuri! I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

Yuuri didn’t stop to think, just pulled out a cartridge of inhaled pain medication and placed it on a low setting. He tossed it to Mila, “Take this every four hours. _Just_ to take the edge off so you can help, understood?” Yuuri grabbed Mila’s wrist tightly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Mila snatched her wrist back, “Is it addictive or something?”

“Very,” admitted Yuuri, “So I expect you to be responsible.”

“I promise to be a respectable drug addict, I’ll only take enough to keep a buzz going.”

Yuuri gave her a hard smile, and pulled out a stack of gurneys. He booted the bottom one to life, it rose to four feet and hovered there, “Just help me with the gurneys for now.”

Celestino shouted at them to haul ass, and Yuuri pushed Mila up the stairs, the gurneys bumping and whining behind them.

“Triage,” said Celestino as they ran, “There’ll be a central tent where Mila and I will work. Send patients our way, Katsuki, but if they can’t be moved just-”

“Stabilize them, I know.”

They headed out of the clinic, sprinting towards the edge of camp where the line of trees was being pushed back. New space was constantly being cleared for the camp’s burgeoning population. Yuuri had noticed the irregular influx of arrivals a few days after he’d arrived, most left after a few days, but some were willing to risk their life.

Yuuri still felt puzzled by the war, he understood the larger overarching reason for it, but the details escaped him. Yet the devil lived and roosted in those details, the xenophobia peddled by the government and media was merely snake oil. The real poison, those details, were the war’s foundation, and Yuuri had no idea what the details were. History wasn’t Yuuri’s strong suit, he’d never had a reason to care about the war’s beginnings, maybe he should have paid attention at least. It would have saved him and Phichit a lot of heartache.

But right now wasn’t the time, the accident site was coming up quick and Yuuri could see the massive lumber rig ripped free from its moorings, bringing down trees and other machinery into a tangled mess.

Celestino took a breath, steadying himself. “It could be worse. We should be fine just splitting up. Mila stick with me. Katsuki... don’t be kind, move on if there’s nothing you can do.”

Yuuri nodded, running his hands through his hair, “I understand. I’ll ask for help if I need it.”

“Good.”

A slimy dread hooked itself into the base of Yuuri’s neck, settling like a parasite. He had to concentrate on others. He exhaled slowly, focusing on that thought, these people needed him.

Yuuri’s first patient had wood shrapnel in his face and throat, there’s a sluggish trickle of blood that increases and decreases like the tides. He immediately sedates the avian, carefully stabilizing the patient before passing them off to a volunteer with a gurney.

The next patient is easier, a shattered femur with a nicked artery. Yuuri looks up and spots Sara, “Scrub your hands and pull on gloves.

That done, Yuuri guides her hands to the bleed, pressing Sara’s fingers into the gush of blood. “Push down hard. _Harder_. Until you see the blood stop flowing.”

Sara looked like she would rather eat shit than have her fingers in someone’s inguinal artery, but she just swallowed hard and did as Yuuri instructed. He quickly cauterized the arterial bleed and then had Sara help him straighten the leg. With a makeshift splint, Yuuri sent the patient off with Sara, who looked almost as pale as the patient.

Yuuri slowly followed behind Sara, feeling exhausted, the sun was heading towards evening. Yuuri’s shoulders prickled and his hands felt brittle. When he ducked into the tent, Celestino waved him over and Yuuri spent half an hour tugging wood shrapnel from an avians eyes while Celestino headed out in his place. He moved on to the next patient.

.....

“Good work, Yuuri.”

Yuuri shuddered, he hadn’t noticed Celestino arrive with four more patients. “Your turn out there. Go on. An old man like me isn’t used to hiking around the goddamned forest.” He pulled Yuuri outside, “ But I don’t want you going alone.” Celestino swung his head back and forth, looking for a likely victim.

“I don’t-“

 “No. No buts. You.” Celestino turned and snapped his fingers at Victor, “Let’s go! What are you waiting for?”

“You can’t be serious,” hissed Yuuri, but Celestino gave him a withering glare that dried up any and all objections. Yuuri remained silent as he almost trudged back into the forest to find more injured. The screaming and crying made it difficult to think, the bag cut into his shoulder, and his breaths came in quick and hot. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the panic sprouting thorns into his stomach.

Victor yanked him to a halt, “What’s wrong with you? You can’t treat patients like this.”

Yuuri yanked his arm away, hissing, “Don’t touch me! I’m fine.”

“I’d bet every finger that you’re not. Now go back to Celestino. I won’t let you kill someone because of your damn fucking pride.” Victor’s gaze was hard and unyielding.

“Hey! Help! Here!” A youth ran up to them, grabbing Yuuri’s hand with her own blood stained one, “My friend needs help!”

“Follow or don’t, but get out of my way,” growled Katsuki. The youth dragged Katsuki back.

They were lead to an avian with dusky grey wings, both of his legs were missing, one side had a bit more thigh left.

“What’s your name?” Yuuri ran his hands under the UV scrubber and pulled gloves on.

“Markus. Am I okay?” Markus tried to get up, but Yuuri gently lowered him back down. Markus reached down with his hands to try and feel his legs, “I can’t? My legs?”

“Both of your legs are gone,” said Yuuri simply. Victor was startled by the brutal honesty. “But I want you to focus on just staying awake, okay?”

Markus nodded, trying to give Yuuri a reassuring smile, “Can do.”

Yuuri looked up at Victor, surprised to see him still there, “ Can you bring a gurney?”

“Yes.” Victor sprinted away.

Yuuri worked quickly, he cut the remainder of Markus’ pants off and wrapped a plastic stasis wrap around each bloody stump. Victor came back, hauling the gurney behind him, he visibly swallowed the gorge coming up his throat and kept his eyes to one side.

Markus noticed. “It’s bad, isn’t it,” said Markus, his face too pale, voice too soft.

“Whatever gave you that notion?” said Yuuri, glaring at Victor. “Don’t look at Victor, he isn’t a doctor, he’s just intimidated by the amount of blood you’ve lost. He’s doesn’t know anything.”

“Fuck you.” said Victor, but he kept his voice light and Markus laughed.

“Hey,” protested Markus, “You two can fight once I’m done dying.”

Yuuri injected Markus with four different vials in quick succession. “I am _offended_ you think I’d let you die. I _should_ let you die right here, right now. Just to prove a point.”

“Hah.” Markus sounded stronger, but it was clear he was struggling to maintain the facade.

Yuuri spent several minutes checking and rechecking Markus’ blood pressure, “Well. . . Congratulations Markus, you could still die, but I doubt it. You’ll probably live to regret this day.”

Victor sputtered, that was no way to speak with someone who was this badly injured, whose life had just changed so brutally. But Markus laughed, “ My wife and kids will appreciate it. Me? Not so much.”

“Who knows, we could somehow miraculously build something that could stand in as legs once you heal.”

Both Markus and Victor groaned.

“Oh that was just terrible,” said Markus, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You’re terrible.”

“So I’ve been told,” said Yuuri, his voice tart. Softer now, “Victor’s going to take you to Celestino, okay? I’ll be around later to see how you’re doing.”

Yuuri secured an IV line to Markus’ arm and nodded at Victor to go. Yuuri moved away, helping a woman limp towards the tents until he runs into Victor and another volunteer trudging his way. The volunteer takes the woman the rest of the way. And to Yuuri’s surprise, Victor doesn’t peel away.

“You don’t have to follow me.”

“You need help though.” said Victor, face painfully neutral, “I would never put the lives of others above my own feelings.”

“Good,” said Yuuri, feeling relieved, “I do need your help, but if you were just going to be a bastard about it, I’d rather you left.”

Victor’s laughter is hard and humorless, “I don’t blame you.” A sharp scream echoes through the trees and Yuuri flinched.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” asked Victor as they hurry towards the scream, Yuuri’s breath is sharp in his mouth, but he still gasps for air. “Leather up, you’ve seen worse than this.”

Yuuri thought of the patch under his shirt, still pumping his medicine-starved brain full of calm. But there was still sand in between his joints and on the roof of his mouth; he felt clumsy, ripping at the seams. “You’d think so.” said Yuuri, “But-“ He knuckles his sternum again, “ I live to disappoint you. So.”

There’s a flurry of movement in front of them and a young woman, with dark brown wings runs up to him. “Here! I found it, but I don’t know what to do,” and tosses him a hand.

Yuuri catches it on instinct, but yelps in dismay. Victor turns away, gagging. The hand is warm and pliant, blood dripping from the ragged end. “Where?” asked Yuuri weakly.

“There!”

Yuuri sees an avian sitting against a tree, cradling his arm and rocking.

“Uhm, what’s your name?”

“Ivette.”

“Ivette, go back to the tents and bring back a gurney.” She whirls on her heel. Yuuri kneels where he is, cleaning the severed hand before dumping it and a pinch of mother cell into a bag along with some water. To jump start the process he gives it to Victor and says, “Here. Shake and bake.”

Victor’s mouth twists into a grimace, but he delicately shakes the bag. “You’re disgusting.”

Yuuri gets to the injured avian and makes her lie down. He smears mother cell on the stump and wraps it in stasis plastic. The gurney arrives and Yuuri bundles the patient onto it, but he falls behind, feeling dizzy.

Mila finds him lagging behind the gurney and stumbling, “You look awful, Yuuri. Have you eaten? Victor, has he eaten?”

Victor shrugged, “Well how should I know?”

“You idiot!” snarled Mila, grabbing Yuuri, “Come on, you _have_ to eat.”

“No, I can’t. Take me to Celestino.”

“He’s busy. He told me to give you these if you wouldn’t eat. But only if.” Mila pulled out three small vials the size of her thumb and handed them to Yuuri. “What are they?”

“Is that blitz powder?” Victor looked at the tiny thumb vials.

Yuuri groaned, _I can’t take this with the anxiety meds still building up._ But his hands were shaking badly, so Yuuri popped open a vial and toasted Mila before throwing it back. The powder scorched Yuuri’s throat, burning away his fatigue and dizziness, steadying him. “God! I thought I was done with this fucking stuff.” His eyes shone with fresh tears, he carefully wiped them away.

“An energy thing?” asked Mila, grabbing one of the vials and scrutinizing it, “Is it good?”

“Yes, but unpleasant,” answered Yuuri, his words slurring slightly, “The crash is awful too.” He giggled, “Alright, I’m going back to work. Victor, you can go, you’ve helped lots. Mila, have _you_ eaten?”

“Um,” said Mila, looking amused, “Yes.”

But Yuuri doesn’t wait for her answer and just walks into the tent. Celestino directs him to an avian with a collapsed lung and Yuuri coolly pretends he’s done punctures a million times. He cleans vomit and blood and urine and feces off of his patients, the skin on his hands feeling dried and cracked the more he runs them under the UV scrubber.

He works with Celestino on the worst of patients, but mostly they work apart. Near dawn, Yuuri has to step aside and down a another vial of blitz, for a moment he imagines his skin bursting like an overblown balloon, it passes, leaving him refreshed and wanting to vomit. His mouth goes dry as he dry heaves behind a tree. He manages to drink some water and that alleviates the buzzing under his skin. It’s enough. The tent seems louder now, if only because everyone who is injured is conscious and able to complain. Being on death’s door makes patients oddly quiet and resigned.

...

It was early afternoon before Victor managed to drag himself out of bed to grab some food, he felt wrung out, but awake enough to head down to where the accident happened. He finds Sara and Lilia there, heads bent together in conference and decides to interrupt them.

“Need anything?”

“Not us, probably the clinic could stand you.” said Lilia, “You can go now.”

Victor grins at being dismissed and heads away, angling his path towards the clinic. He finds Katsuki sitting on the porch, his stare a million miles away. He blinked slowly at Victor, dragging himself back from space, it looked painful.

“You crashing?” asked Victor, because Katsuki looked sea sick, his face sagging with exhaustion.

“Not yet.”

Victor opened the clinic door open, “Then why are you shaking? How many vials have you taken?”

That question made Katsuki shake his head like a water-logged dog, “Four, I think.”

“You _think._ Well that crash is going to be just oodles of fun for you.” said Victor, his voice dry.

“I’ve had worse,” said Yuuri, shrugging, “I’m pretty sure my limit’s seven.”

“That’s crazy. I’ve only ever done three in one go. I’ll send flowers to your blitz-withdrawal funeral, Katsuki.”

He snorted, “Appreciate it, but it’s not the blitz crash that’ll kill me.” Katsuki bit down on whatever he was going to say, “I’m just waiting for Celestino to wake up so I can sleep.”

“So you don’t need help here?” Victor lets the door shut.

“No. We’re fine unless someone decides to take a dive.”

Victor debated whether being at the comms building was his best option, Chris was mucking about in there with his crushed hand, probably moping. He’d probably expect Victor to say nice things to make him feel better, _ugh_ , Victor wasn’t good at consoling people. But he’d do his best since Chris was his friend.

“Chris?” Victor let the door swing shut, hitting his back, an impulse forward.

“What do _you_ want?”

 _He’s angry, I can deal with anger._ “Still pissed about your hand?” Victor injects his voice with as much cheer as possible, _best smile-check, crinkled eyes-check, relaxed posture-check._

“You’re not?” Chris drops his pseudo-anger, looking astonished, “I thought you’d be furious.”

“Wha-“ Victor joined Chris at the tech table, currently flashing to the eastern refugee slums, “Why would I be angry that you got hurt? I feel bad for you, sure. But angry?”

Chris looks at him with pity, which Victor thinks is uncalled for, Victor wasn’t the one with powdered bone dust and string for a hand.

“Think carefully, Nikiforov. How many comms operators are there in camp?”

Chris is speaking gently, and that makes Victor nervous.

“Uhm, including Plisetsky? 2 and a squirt.”

Chris doesn’t laugh at his joke, “Right. And _when_ is the next mission?”

“A few days?”

“Right.... And which one of us isn’t injured?”

“Son of a slathering slug!”

“Was that alliteration?” Chris smiled at him, looking impressed, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“They can’t make me! I won’t do it!” Victor pushed his chair back, the room is too crowded to pace and all Victor wants to do is tear the shelves down.

“No work, no eat,” said Chris turning back to the tech table and adjusting the settings, a long message unfurled in front of him.

“FUCK!”

“That’s the spirit.” Chris lets him rant, eyeing him with mild interest. Victor is spitting mad and it looks good on him, as if righteous rage was a second skin. Being a lawyer, it was probably necessary to have that righteous anger on tap.

The front door opened and Katsuki stepped in. “I have messages from various patients for their families.” He skips inside, tossing Chris a computer slate. He fumbled for it, his crushed hand useless.

The shelves are too irresistible to ignore so Yuuri walks between them, running his hands on the flotsam and jetsam and books that crowd the room.

“Shopping for something in particular, Katsuki?” Chris lays the slate onto the tech desk and the information automatically flows between devices. “Hey, is Celestino ready to look at my hand yet?”

“Psh! Celestino’s dealing with more important injuries right now,” Katsuki slid over to Chris, “But I can look at your hand if you want. A quick check up!” His smiles stretched his features into something almost grotesque.

Chris gaped at Katsuki who’s practically vibrating himself onto another plane. And then his gaze slides over to Victor who’s still trying not to fly into a rage. This was a powder keg if Chris ever saw one.

Katsuki follows Chris’ gaze. “Are you alright, Victor? You look-“ Katsuki made a face and wriggled his fingers, as if its meaning should be obvious.

Chris wanted to snicker, Katsuki lifted an eyebrow at Chris, a silent question. But Chris turned away to send the messages off to the families of the injured. He looked at Katsuki and realized what it meant that Mila was also injured, that revelation made him laugh.

“ _What_ are you laughing at?” seethed Victor, putting several shelves between them.

“Besides your soap-worthy dramatics? This.” Chris turned to Katsuki, smiling gently, “A little bird told me that Mila was going to take the next mission off and youuu~?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Katsuki bounced to his feet, his teeth chattering as if he were freezing, “I’m gonna fill in this one time, until Mila recovers completely. I’m _super_ nervous.”

Even before the end of the sentence, Victor is banging his head on the plaster wall and Chris is cackling.

“Is... Are you alright Victor? Honestly, you look a bit crazy right now.”

“First of all, eat shit. Second of all, shouldn’t you be crashing right about now and not darkening my doorstep?” Victor scraped his forehead along the plaster wall.

Katsuki shrugged, grinning widely, “I’m definitely at the gross end of the blitz high, but I’ve got a bit before the end of all times.”

Victor turned to get a good look at him. He was trembling and sweating, not evident while he moved, but here in the stillness he looked a mess.

“What else did you take?” asked Chris.

Katsuki’s eyes shuttled rapidly to Chris, bright beetles shivering and flitting, never still.

“You must’ve taken some other medication to have the hangover pushed back.” clarified Chris, “What was it?”

“Not important! Did you want me to look at your hand or not?” demanded Katsuki, just as a shudder ripped through him.

“I’m gonna go with: Not,” said Chris, “But you _can_ explain to me why the hell Otabek’s leg healed so quickly, but _my_ hand is going to take twice as long to heal. Otabek’s leg: a few days. My hand: Seven.”

Katsuki counts off on his fingers, “Crushed bones, torn ligaments, plus you kept helping carry patients, further injuring yourself. _You_ try and pull a miracle out of that mess. I’m surprised you didn’t lose your hand.”

But instead of being riled up, Chris deflates.

Katsuki’s eyes are roving the room at miles per minute and frankly it’s making Victor a little nauseated. But before he can say anything, Katsuki is up and patting Chris’ shoulder. “There, there. If I could I would have done something about it. ”

Chris sighed, “I’m just pissed that I have to sit the next mission out, there are already enough rookies going. It could end up a blood bath.”

“Why?” Katsuki takes the slate back from Chris.

“Because you just never know how someone is going to react when afield. Plus Otabek’s going to go, despite the leg, since it’s Yuri’s first mission. So there’s _that_.”

“Oh God.” Katsuki backed into a shelf, and it gave a loud creak.

“You’re gonna deal with a lot of bullshit from Otabek,” said Chris darkly, running his hands through his hair, untangling some loose curls. “ Luckily Sara will be there. And I’m sure he’s going to be busy keeping Yuri away from anything too dangerous.”

“Do we get _codenames?_ ” Yuuri clapped his hands together, grinning like a maniac. “For the mission?”

Chris scoffed, “Oh _definitely_! Yours would be Blitz-head.”

Katsuki sighed as if disappointed, “Very uncreative. How come the _other_ Yuri gets a cool nickname and I don’t?”

“Huh?”

Blithely, Yuuri continued to speak, “Victor gave Yuri a cute nickname! And what do _you_ saddle me with? At least it wasn’t something-”

“Woah! Back it up, Victor did _what?”_ Chris looked gleeful and Victor froze, his shoulders tensing as if for a blow.

“Katsuki, shut the fuck up.”

“It’s so cute!” lamented Yuuri, “And what do _I_ get-?”

“No one cares about you, Katsuki!” said Chris, his face going pink in excitement, “Tell me what-“

“I _know_ no one cares about me, but that doesn’t make it fair! I bet Victor’d give _you_ a cute nickname, Chris.”

Victor snarls something in a language Yuuri’s short-circuited brain can’t recognize, but he’s cut off by Chris’ laughter.

Chris stands, rounding on Yuuri, “Are you going to spill or not?”

“Sp-uh-ill?” Katsuki looks confused, “Oh! You mean Yuri’s nickname?”

Victor doesn’t bother moving, “It’ll be a miracle to get a straight answer out of him. He’s gone off the deep end.”

“You’d do it just to piss him off him, right Katsuki? Yuuri?” coaxed Chris.

There was a low thrumming in Yuuri’s ears that made it difficult to remember farther back than a goldfish minute. “Piss who off?”

“Victor!” said Chris, exasperated. Victor laughed outright, “You’ll never get it out of him.”

“Get what out of what? Oh! Victor’s nickname for Swallowtail? I mean Yura? I mean Yuri? Oh fuck me,” sighed Yuuri.

Victor stiffened, the angle of his back going rigid, his fists curling.

Chris is shaking with laughter, his teeth clenched together. “Maybe you’d better run along now, Yuuri. Unless you want to leave in a body bag, Victor looks homicidal.”

“Psh!” said Yuuri, glaring at Victor, “ I bet he doesn’t even know how to fight.”

“And you do?” asked Chris, leading him out the door because Victor is looking downright scary.

“I’m full of surprises, don’tcha know?” asked Yuuri, affecting a drawl.

“God. I’ll bet. Go to bed Katsuki.”

Yuuri scoffed and threw his weight back, “You used me! And now you just want to get rid of me.”

“Yup!” grunted Chris, trying to get Katsuki out the door before Victor could reach them, “And now that you’re useless, you get to leave.” He struggled to push Katsuki out the door, the man might have been short, but he was either desperate or deceptively strong.

“Typical,” said Yuuri, as Chris kicked the door open, “Fine. I’m leaving. I said fine!” Yuuri stumbled out the door and Chris closed it fast.

“So, Swallowtail, huh?” Panting, Chris turned to Victor, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Kill me,” groaned Victor, covering his eyes, “I bet that fucking loud mouth’s been spreading that all around camp.” He slumped into a chair, looking embarrassed.

“Maybe,” laughed Chris, “But it _is_ cute and unexpected! You’re always so angry and shit.”

“Bury me under the ugliest tree you can find, it’s what I deserve,” muttered Victor, which made Chris laugh more.

“Naw, that’s not what you need, what you need is to stop wearing your emotions on your sleeves.”

“First, that’s not how the saying goes. Second, why should I? What does it matter anymore?”

Chris heaved a huge dramatic sigh, “ I hate nihilism, but I guess you’re not wrong. Still, you’re too transparent, it’ll bite you in the ass one day.”

Victor cast his eyes upward, “I don’t care. Not anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for talking with me!
> 
> My heart goes **DOKI-DOKI** when I get to talk about my story with you!


	8. Guns, Trains, Explosions- Oh My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got LONG so I cut it into two.

Celestino finds Yuuri curled up in the upstairs bathroom and leaves to find an air freshener, to start some coffee and to grab a bag of electrolytes. When he comes back, Yuuri has moved only enough to hang his head into the toilet bowl.

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri groans and then loudly heaves his mostly empty stomach into the bowl. Celestino pats his back, “Coffee? Tea?”

Yuuri’s only response is to increase the force of his gagging.

“Water.” Yuuri surfaces, pale and shivering, he wants to say something scathing, but his mouth is brimming with acid and his teeth feel mossy. He’s not completely sure there isn’t vomit in his hair.

“You baby, it’s just a hang over. Here, let me start you on some electrolytes. My own homemade cure.” Celestino wipes down Yuuri’s hand and inserts an IV into the spidery veins there. The bag he settles carefully on the bathroom counter and watches the fluid for a minute before being satisfied that he didn’t hit an artery. “Coffee? Tea?”

Yuuri rests his cheek on the toilet seat, “No.” Talking is less dangerous than shaking his head.

“Do you want to just keep worshipping?”

Yuuri rasps, “Sorry I’m useless.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got Mila downstairs pumped full of pain killers and she’s great. Yuri should swing by later to pick up some of the slack, although _he’s_ useless with visceral injuries. You take the whole day off.”

“Ugh, you’re being nice to me.” Katsuki actually glared at Celestino.

“Wh- Did you _want_ me to scream at you? For having a perfectly reasonable hangover from the fucking blitz and anxiety meds cocktail that got you through the fucking _disaster_ that was yesterday? Are you stupid?” Celestino kept his voice from rising, even though his temper was getting the best of him.

Katsuki groaned and spit into the bowl. “It’s not an excuse.“

“Not an-?” Celestino takes a deep breath and Yuuri winces as Celestino gathers his thoughts.

“Ciao Ciao!” Yuri burst in, “Lilia’s downstairs saying Katsuki needs to look at her arm. The robot one.”

Celestino looked at Katsuki who had melted to the floor, one arm over the toilet seat in case he had to haul himself back up.

Celestino scowled, “Why don’t you tell Lilia-“

The stomping up the stairs stopped Celestino’s words again and Victor appeared, hanging off the doorway, breathless, “Why is everyone up here- Oh worshipping the porcelain gods, Katsuki? Have you had breakfast? There’s runny eggs dipped-“

“Out!” shouted Celestino as Yuuri dove for the toilet, “Get out you bastards! Both, OUT!”

Victor held his hands out in mock innocence, “I didn’t-“

“Shut the fuck up,” growled Celestino.

“I didn’t even _do_ anything,” grumbled Yuri, “Lilia still-“

“That reminds me,” said Victor, still playing the earnest innocent, “Chris is down stairs with his hand still all crunchy.”

“Oh for- I completely forgot about that fool,” muttered Celestino, “I can help him. Unfortunately, Lilia will have to wait, have her come back after lunch. Victor, leave or so help me-”

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” protested Victor.

“Leave, Katsuki alone! He’s got enough problems.”

“Like what?” asked Yuri who’d been unusually silent.

Instead of answering, Celestino ordered Yuri to get back to work and threatened Victor with bodily harm if he even _sniffed_ the trash behind the clinic.

“Gross,” said Victor, delicately wrinkling his nose as Celestino pushed him out the front door.

....

Yuuri isn’t sure how long he’s in the bathroom with his face an inch above the water, but it’s long enough that his neck is stiff and his mouth has gone dry. The bag of electrolytes Celestino hooked to him is almost empty, Yuuri carefully pulls the needle out and presses down on his hand while he spits once more into the toilet bowl before testing his legs.

Wobbly. But his stomach isn’t threatening revolution so that’s an improvement. The feeling that his head was crunching on glass is gone, replaced with a dull roaring headache. Yuuri brushes his teeth and washes his face before heading back down.

Celestino doesn’t even stop working, just gives Yuuri a disbelieving look, shakes his head and keeps changing a patient’s bandages. Yuuri calls Lilia and only has to wait five minutes for her to arrive.

“How can I help you today?” Yuuri defaulted to his most polite and distant, it was easier to deal with the headache that way.

“It’s my arm, I’ve been putting on weight, so the base needs to be loosened.”

Lilia sat on a bed with her back ramrod straight as Yuuri detached the arm, carefully putting it aside, and unscrewed the base from Lilia’s shoulder stump. Lilia’s face smoothed out at the release of pressure.

Yuuri pulled up a chair, squinting at Lilia’s shoulder. “Would you be okay leaving the base off for a week or two? Your skin’s really irritated and it would allow you to finish putting on muscle. I can also readjust the padding of the base while I’m at it.”

“Yes. That’s fine.”

Yuuri carefully cleaned Lilia’s shoulder, “Is there something else that you need?”

“Lamb’s wool for when I do get the base back on. In addition to the gel. Also, you’ll teach me how to remove the base myself. One handed, clearly.”

“Of course,” said Yuuri and Lilia narrowed her eyes. Yuuri quickly shifted his gaze to the arm’s base and picked it up so he could show Lilia how to adjust it. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. I could even make a gel sac out of concussion pads or something, it would ward off skin breakdown. What do you think?” Yuuri scribbled onto his slate, “There are other options I could think of in the meantime-“

Lilia watched him through heavily lidded eyes, she kept expecting him to try and override her, but Yuuri kept deferring to her decisions. “Honestly, the camp can’t really afford to lose you, Katsuki.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go back.”

Lilia pursed her lips, “And so you wash your hands of us.”

Yuuri gave Lilia a thin uncomfortable smile. “You’re about to ask for my help, even after I go back.”

Lilia rubbed her collar where it rounded into muscle. “I don’t care how you know that. But yes. We would need your full cooperation, obviously.” Lilia leaned back, “Truthfully, I wanted Sara to speak with you about this. I do not like you and Sara is much more charming.”

“You don’t need to be charming.” Yuuri fidgeted, “I’m sorry for how I treated you before. It was done out of blindness, truly. Someday, I hope you’ll believe me. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I really did think I could help. Really.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t excuse what you did. Damage is damage.”

“I know. Which is why I accept to help, except-“ Yuuri held out his hands in warning, “Except I don’t want my roommate involved. At all.”

Lilia thought about that, “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t he already involved?” Her gaze was sharp and Yuuri nodded silently. “Then I don’t care if something happens to him... but,” added Lilia somewhat regretfully, “the help I’m requesting probably won’t involve him at all.

“Probably,” said Yuuri flatly.

“It’s time you came to accept that there will _always_ be a danger involved.”

Yuuri tipped his head back, “I know that.” Yuuri dropped his face into his hands, “I just want things to stop.“

“I wish I had that luxury,” said Lilia, tartly, “I wish Yuri had that luxury.”

Yuuri chewed on his lip.

“You’re always talking about wanting to help.”

Yuuri hesitated and only barely stopped himself from chewing on his nails, “I... am....”

Lilia scowled, “Fine. I will have Sara speak with you again, soon.” She tucked the arm and the base into a bag, “Don’t make me regret saving your sorry excuse of a life.” She stalked out of the clinic with grace.

 “Damn it!” yelled Yuuri once Lilia was gone.

“Stop yelling!” yelled Celestino, “You’re disturbing the patients goddamn it!”

Yuuri ignored him and stomped upstairs, Celestino yelling for him to be quieter.

....

Lilia felt strangely free without the prosthetic, she’d gone so long without one that having something hanging from her shoulder was more unnatural. Sara’s gaze when Lilia returns is wide-eyed. But Mila is also there and she quips, “Misplaced something, Lilia?”

“My keys. You haven’t seen them have you?” responded Lilia, not cracking a smile, but Mila chuckles.

“This is going to take time to get used to,” said Sara slowly, staring between Lilia and Mila, “But just to be perfectly clear. You did not lose your prosthetic, right?”

Lilia gave them a tight grin, settling into her favorite chair. She tapped the bag at her feet. “No. I’m going to let myself rest for a week before putting it back on. Now, the planning.”

“Is done,” said Sara, “I was just waiting for you to arrive.” She pulled up the map of the western region. Metropolis-Sigma is near the corner of the screen with the slums surrounding the edges, like mud caught on the bottom of a shoe. There’s a river splitting and circling the city and slums before diving into the wilderness. Sara swipes away from Met-Sig to where an outpost is to the south of the city. Sara points to an area where the river and the road almost converge. “It’s far from here, but the distance offers protection against being tracked down. And the convoy’s large enough to justify the expense, a metric ton of varied supplies. We’ll need both humvees for this shopping trip.”

Lilia rubbed her shoulder, “A haul that big would be a blessing now that winter is on its way. When?”

“We’d have to leave my tomorrow to catch the it.”

“Send out the summons for everyone. Good luck.” Lilia laid her hand on Sara’s arm for a moment, “Stay safe and good hunting.”

....

Chris brought the news with him from the clinic. “Are you sure you want to go? Ooh! Lunch, Thanks!”

“I _don’t_ want to go. But there’s no one else.” Victor hadn’t felt like eating at the mess hall so he brought them both trays loaded with hot food.

Chris sighed, waving around his still bandaged hand, “Let them cancel it. Missions get cancelled for less.”

“No.”

“You’re so proud. That’s going to get you killed one day.”

Victor ignored that. “What’s it like. _Really_ like?”

Chris chewed his food with a fervor Victor rarely saw. He wondered just how often Chris had gone hungry in his life. “It’s _super_ boring most of the time, you’re hoping something to happen, but when it does- BAM!-“ Chris slammed his fist into the table, “You’re signing over your first born just so you don’t get a bullet to the ass. Or the head.”

“Hmmm,” Victor poked at his food but fell silent after that, his stomach tightening at the thought of possible violence.

“Don’t worry, most of the time nothing happens. You’ll keep communications open and an eye on the scanners for anything bigger than a mountain lion. That’s it.”

“I can do that,” said Victor cautiously.

“Of course you can! You’ll be fine because let’s see: Otabek’s going and so is Sara. So that’s two of the best fighters, not to mention the rest of the squad. Yuri’s going too, although that might just put Otabek on edge! Oh and Katsuki’s going! So if you get _really_ bored you can just harass him.”

That made Victor laugh, “Is that really what you’ll remember me as? A restless asshole?”

Chris pinked up and laughed, “Yes, definitely. Finish eating and then I’ll help you pack a day bag.”

....

Victor rubbed his ass ruefully, and grimaced, Chris had been right. Two days of riding in a metal tub over mountain roads hadn’t been kind, and now he’d spent the last three hours hiking through _a godawful muggy stupid cursed ugly dumb forest,_ Victor took a breath as he hauled himself up a small incline. This was less terrifying and exciting than watching paint dry.

He trudged by Otabek and kept his head down, the bastard had the energy to look glib. “Alright there, Victor?”

Victor mumbled a vague threat about burning down this entire forest and Otabek gave him a rare grin.

“You’re not even limping,” groused Victor, shouldering his backpack higher on his shoulders.

“I’m carrying less weight than you,” said Otabek, falling in next to him, “And I’m used to these marches. Although the forest is beautiful right?”

“If you’re a wild animal, I guess so.”

“Katsuki and Yuri seem to be holding up though.”

Victor looked up at Yuri directly in front of him, the kid was using his wings for extra balance. Katsuki ahead of Yuri had fallen so often that he and Yuri had started a bet for what the final tally would be. Winner gets the loser’s dessert for a week. But despite that Katsuki wasn’t even breaking a sweat, which was unfair, so unfair. “Yep.”

Otabek pressed his lips together, obviously trying not to laugh.

“What’s gotten into you?” asked Victor, “You’re _cheerful.”_

“Well...” Otabek lowered his voice, Victor wondered if it was so Yuri wouldn’t hear. “I might as well enjoy this day.”

Otabek didn’t have to finish the thought for Victor to understand the grim implication, he firmly kept his eyes on the ground in front of his feet, “Just in case?”

Otabek nodded once. “Moving on... We’re almost going to run into the road, right? The train still on track?”

Victor pulled out the slim tablet that was connected to the larger computer strapped to his back, “Ten more minutes to the road at this pace. The train hasn’t changed pace at all, hours away. Same number of guards, same formation too.”

“Good. I’ll let Sara know. Take your position and _try_ to keep Yuri from rushing in, tell him if he gets hurt I’ll ship him off to the swamps.”

“There’s a camp of avians in the _swamps?_ ”

“Of course not,” said Otabek, giving him a wide and frankly terrifying smile, “But Yuri doesn’t know that.”

Victor watched Otabek speed up and tap both Yuri and Katsuki on the shoulder to fall back. Katsuki was breathing a little more heavily than usual, but apart from that he looked unperturbed by the humidity or the exercise, Yuri was panting loudly and trying to fan himself cool with his wings. Victor felt like he was melting and the heavy backpack prevented him from cooling himself off, it was miserable.

“Alright you two, stay behind me.” Yuri immediately shoved Katsuki back and let the forward group advance only for a few seconds before striking out behind them. “Don’t try anything stupid and stay close.”

 “Yessir.” said Victor, in his most serious voice. Yuri didn’t see Katsuki smother his giggle into his sleeve.

“Are you...”said Yuri slowly, glaring at Katsuki and advancing.

“No! Victor’s the one who-“

“Me?! I didn’t do anything,” interrupted Victor, “ _I’m_ not giggling.”

“I wasn’t!” said Katsuki, turning red as Yuri advanced on both of them, looking angrier by the second.

“Make fun of me all you want, I’ve got a gun in case something happens.” Yuri turned right back around after glaring at both of them.

“And you’d use it without a second thought to protect us,” said Victor, trying to soothe the prickly teenager, “It’s just funny for you to boss us around.”

“So you _were_ making fun of me!” cried Yuri, pointing an accusing finger at Victor, “I’m going to kick your ass!”

Victor pleads for mercy which only makes Yuri angrier. Yuri takes a deep breath, “You know what? Fuck you. Both of you. Now sit.” He motions to a wet patch of ground, “We’re going to wait here until we’re needed.” Yuri’s back is to the train and the fighting. Victor can pinpoint the moment Yuri freezes as he scans the area behind him and Katsuki. “I changed my mind. Victor, Yuuri? Slowly and...normally get up and walk around me towards the train. I’ll follow you in a second.” Yuri’s eyes are casually sweeping the area behind them. Victor almost protests, the chatter of gunfire and screams are loud in the quiet forest. But Katsuki gets up, “You heard him, Victor. Up.” Victor looks hard at Yuri, the kid’s chin is trembling.

“Of course, how silly of me. What a great idea.” Victor rises and he starts walking towards the train.

“Good. I’ll tell you when to run.”

Katsuki almost stops walking, but just goes around a tree. Victor on the other hand, walks a little bit faster.

They’re halfway to the road and the stopped convoy train when they hear gunfire behind them. They bolt for the train. Victor looks back only long enough to see Yuri running to catch up.

Victor heard rather than saw Katsuki call Sara through the microphone, it should have been him doing that, but he was trying to juggle his stupid bulky backpack and the soundboard.

They scrambled down to the road at last, Katsuki landing on his knees. Yuri helped him up as Victor ran forward to pound on the door of the last wagon. Otabek opened it, sticking his gun in Victor’s face.

Yuri shoved past him, “Crawlers.”

Otabek’s face darkened and he tapped into the microphone, shutting the door behind them and bolting it shut. “Crawlers approaching from high ground. Team one needs to go, _now._ ”

They all flinch when the sound of boots hits the roof of the train. Otabek breathes a sigh of relief, “They got away.”

“Are we?” asked Victor sharply, he vaguely remembered the special unit of soldiers informally known as crawlers.

Yuri tells him to shut up before being pulled away by Katsuki to tend to the injured. The door starts to melt and Otabek pushes him back, shooting through the door. Victor crouches near Yuri, “Go help Otabek.”

Yuri vaults away and Victor shoves down his queasiness to help. Katsuki is working at a manic pace, shoving gauze into bleeding holes and pills into mouths. They hear a tremendous crash and Katsuki’s grip on a bandage roll slips, splashing into someone’s open stomach. He curses and Victor peeks around the shipping crates. The back half of the wagon is gone, but apparently so are the crawlers.

“Good job?” says Victor as Yuri pushes him aside to actually help Katsuki.

“They’ll be back,” says Otabek, who’s limping, “Let’s move.” Otabek speaks into his microphone and several avians appear to help with moving shipping crates and the injured. Victor tosses his backpack into the humvee that’s pulled up to the large side door. He won’t need it anymore.

The train lurches forward and the humvee revs its engine to keep up.

 “Sara?” Otabek speaks into his microphone.

“I’m keeping us ahead of the crawlers. Pick it up, Altin. We need to go now.”

The train is _still_ picking up speed, and the humvee is having trouble keeping pace. Otabek is drenched in sweat and his leg is feeling numb. A lone crawler hovers near the back door, clearly unwilling to engage an even dozen avians. Otabek shoots at the soldier and they leap from the train, bouncing along the ground as the train zooms away, are they going faster?

“Sara, slow the train down,” Otabek lets himself lean on Yuri, his leg giving out completely.

“I can’t!” Sara sounded a bit panicked, “The train must have a safety or something to trash it in case of hostile takeover. It’s time to bail, supplied or not. There’s a sharp turn coming up, get out.”

“Got it.” gasped Otabek as he tried to take a step and he almost crumpled from pain. Yuri makes a  valiant effort to drag him, but lets Victor take over.

Yuuri ignores everyone except for whoever is currently bleeding out in front of him. He feels, rather than sees two people edge by him, bumping into him from the train’s increasingly erratic movements. Yuri kneels by him, and hisses, “Otabek’s leg.” Yuri is grateful to see Katsuki scowl and rummage in his bag, he gets up and unceremoniously stabs Otabek in the thigh with an autoinject needle, snarling, “If your leg falls off, _I’ll_ be the one paying for it.” Otabek has none of the grace to look ashamed, but Yuuri didn’t wait for a response before moving away.

“He’ll be fine,” said Katsuki and Yuri feels so relieved that he wants to- to, he shakes himself and he and Katsuki go back to getting people stabilized enough to be moved.

Sara arrives, flanked by three more avians, “Get them all out: the alive and dead.” She grabs Katsuki under the arms and bodily tries to throw him into the humvee when the train jumps on its wheels. Yuri loses track of gravity as the wagon goes flying. He tucks his face into his knees, praying that nothing spears him. _That_ would suck. He can hear wood crunching and smell pine needles mixing with blood and other stuff. Everything is spinning and too bright, and then it stops.

His ears are ringing and his left hand is torn up but still mobile. Yuri gropes forward and touches something soft.

“Sara? Katsuki?” he manages to get up to his knees, “Victor? Beka?”

There’s a moan to his left and Sara is carefully shaking glass from herself. “Yuri? Thank God. Do you see them?”

“No,” said Yuri, “I don’t. What do we do?”

“I’m sorry, Yuri, but we have to go. We left the crawlers behind, but you can already hear the drones.”

Yuri licks his lips, he can hear the drones, he shakes his wings out, swallowing hard. Sara grabs his hand and pulls him upright. She shakes out her wings carefully as she looks around, eyes darting around the scene. There’s fire and smoke pouring from the engine, bodies are strewn around them. “Let’s go.” She crouches and jumps, Yuri following closely.

....

Yuuri very carefully checks if his neck if broken, no, all of his teeth and toes are exactly where they should be. There’s blood pouring from his nose and ears though. He peels a cussive gel sack apart and gently smooths one across his temple. His knees are cut up, and his arms look like hell, but he’s alive and not actively bleeding too badly. Yuuri touches the metal plating above his head, he’s lucky he wasn’t crushed by it. He crawls halfway out, “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Here.” Yuuri yelps when Victor, who’s looking just as beat up, rushes at him and dives under the bent metal, dragging Yuuri back. “Let go!”

“Shut up!” hisses Victor, “Drones!”

“Oh,” Yuuri deflates and hugs his bag close. Several drones swoop by, sweeping the area for movement.

Victor is muttering under his breath, there’s blood drying under his ears. Yuuri gingerly pokes him and hands over the other half of the cussive pad, pointing to the one on himself. Victor pastes it onto his forehead instead and goes back to muttering to himself. When the drones eventually fly off they wait a few more minutes before crawling out from their hiding place and Yuuri takes a moment to look around. There are flames all around, he can see the engine blazing happily to their right, crackling and rumbling in warning.

“We have to get away from the engine.” Yuuri hugs his bag closer and realizes he isn’t wearing his glasses.

“No shit.”

Yuuri glares at Victor, plucks a bit of glass from his chin and flicks it away, “Ow! Don’t touch me.”

“You’re welcome.” Yuuri pats his pockets and searches his bag. He kneels and squints around, patting the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“I think I lost my glasses. Shit... I’m half blind without them.”

“Oh great. And I thought my plan was going to work.”

“What plan?”

“The slums aren’t that far away.” said Victor, “If we can wait for nightfall then we go there.”

“Moving now would be better,” said Yuuri, giving up on his glasses.

“Hm,” Victor looks annoyed at having his plan modified, “I guess so. Do you hear the drones?”

“No. Do you see my glasses?”

Victor doesn’t look around, “No. Let’s go. The sooner we get out of this hole the sooner I can take a shower. Ugh! Covered in mud and God knows what else.” He tugs at his jacket in distaste.

“I can’t believe they left us,” said Yuuri.

“What did you expect? They probably have better things to do than wait for-“ Victor stops, looking annoyed for himself.

“Wait for?” prompts Yuuri.

“Nevermind. Let’s go, I can hear the river, that’ll lead us towards the slums.” Victor taps his lips impatiently. “It doesn’t matter that they left. It was the smartest thing to do, we can’t just pretend that they care that much for us-“

“Well-“ Yuuri followed Victor towards the growing sound of a river.

“-And besides,” continued Victor, and Yuuri got the impression that Victor was talking just to cover up the silence of the forest, “it’s not like either of us are completely helpless, although you claim to be ‘half-blind’ and I’m not one for-“

“Did your parents,” asked Yuuri, loud enough to interrupt Victor, “ever play the quiet game with you?”

Caught off guard Victor answered, “Yes. But why- Oh fuck you.”

Yuuri grinned and hefted his bag into a more comfortable position, “At least I didn’t lose my bag. You want one?”

Victor watches Katsuki throw a pill back. “Pain pill? Oh hell yes.”

Yuuri gives Victor a moment to swallow the pills. “How will going to the slums even help? Do you know someone there?”

“I thought we were playing the quiet game,” snapped Victor.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes, smiled maliciously, but said nothing more.

Victor snorted but he looked at the sun and started walking. Katsuki followed him.

“Ah! The river!” He looked triumphantly at Yuuri whose only response was, “You lose.”

Victor rolls his eyes, “Anyway. If we follow the river upstream we’ll reach the slums, eventually.”

“Ughhh, that sounds like you don’t know how far we are. It could be days of walking.”

“Listen, you’re lucky I don’t just leave you here to rot. I could just fly there.” Victor starts walking away again, choosing a fast pace, hoping to leave Katsuki a bit behind.

Yuuri decides not to point out that Victor isn’t that great of a flyer, and opts for, “What would we even do if we reach the slums?”

“When we reach the slums,” corrects Victor, “I’ll let you know.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Okay! Quiet game begins again.” Victor is genuinely surprised when Katsuki doesn’t say anything, he just hears the quiet rustle of a...magazine? _Curiosity killed the cat_. He looks back and sees Katsuki pull out a very dingy and damaged magazine from his bag, it looks like a professional journal.

“What’s that?”

“Looks like I’m 2-0,” mutters Yuuri, “Let’s start the quiet game again so I can read in peace.”

Victor almost grabs the journal and hurls it into the river. “How can you even read without your glasses?”

“3-0. Reset the game.”

“But-“

“4-0. Reset the-”

“I swear-“

“5-0. Reset-“

Victor balls his fists and is about to press them into his eyes when he catches the laughter tucked into Yuuri’s eyes. Victor lets go of his anger. “You’re fucking with me. Fine. I was just trying to make conversation, you know, like an adult.”

Katsuki bites his lip. “I’m near sighted, I can see the magazine and the ground directly in front of me. But your face is fuzzy.”

“I’m like two feet away. How are you going to survive until we make it to the slums?”

“Barring any encounters with bears and stuff, I was hoping you wouldn’t lead me off a cliff,” said Yuuri, voice dry.

“Or push you into the river,” supplied Victor.

“That’s rather extreme just because you suck at the quiet game.”

Victor is about to say something very rude, but he notices that laughing glint in Katsuki’s face. “You’re not this terrible or brash with anyone else,” accuses Victor.

Katsuki shrugs, “It’s self defense. You’re always jumping at a chance to take my head off.”

Victor crosses his arms, “Fair enough. But still...Yuri-“

“Is a child,” said Katsuki flatly, “You expect me to go toe to toe with a kid?”

Victor looks behind them, partly to make sure no one is following them, partly to hide his embarrassment.

“I was reading about the accident that happened at the prison a month before I started working there. It’s the reason there were openings at all.” Yuuri rubs his chin with the sharp angle of his knuckles and doesn’t explain further. Victor waits but Katsuki is just squinting off into the distance, apparently having forgotten the conversation.

“Which was....?”

“Oh!” Katsuki looked embarrassed, “Sorry, lost in thought. What was I saying...Right, well Phichit and I are pretty sure it was an explosion because so many...um people and avians died. But it must have been a poisonous gas or whatever that went off because as far as I can tell there was never any structural damage or repair. Just the west hall closed off indefinitely. Still might be.”

Victor frowned, “I never heard about this on the news. How many people, let’s be honest no one counted _us_ , died?”

“That’s what is so weird. Not a single news outlet, except this, “Yuuri waved the journal, “Has ever talked about it. Even then, only someone familiar with certain details would be able to connect this story with the met-sig det center. As for the number of dead? No idea. More than ten at least, less than thirty probably. Not counting avians.”

Victor was shocked, “Something that big...who covered it up?”

Katsuki shrugged, “Oh I know it was Yakov, no one else has that sort of power. I’m sure the file’s in his office but I’ve never had reason to look for it. Now though... I’d like to know, what if it happened again?”

Victor grunted, “I wouldn’t mind that, especially if it took the entire place with it.”

Katsuki didn’t answer, just squinted harder into the fast darkening evening.

....

“Oh thank God, I thought we were going to wander that stupid forest until we died,” Victor stopped abruptly and sighed in relief.

“Or the wendigos got us. Are we there?”

“The what?” Victor looks back and sees Katsuki knock his shoulder against  tree, startled Katsuki touches it and edges around to where Victor is standing.

“We’re at the slums?” asked Katsuki, “I see city lights, but they’re sloppy, haphazard.”

Victor decided he doesn’t care what wendigos are. “There’s a hill leading to the road. Will you make it without falling into traffic?”

“You’d better lead me down the hill, unless you _want_ me to roll into traffic?”

Victor considers this.

“Do _not_ push me into traffic,” said Katsuki, annoyed, “I was joking.”

“Oh....Of course you were. I’m smiling reassuringly, since you can’t see it.”

“Consider me reassured,” muttered Katsuki.

 Victor gingerly tugs Katsuki down the hill, it’s full dark now and Victor tucks his wings in close. They cross the ten lane highway without incident. Victor doesn’t remember breathing at all, only that his boots pick up tons of static from the magnetic road. They follow the road as it splits off and crumbles into regular asphalt and then compressed dirt and then not even that.

The slums are ugly and tall and chaotic and Victor almost wants to go back to the forest, but he’s starving and the only thing to eat in the forest is dirt and pine needles.

“Have you ever been here?” Katsuki cranes his neck upwards

“No.” admitted Victor, “But... I’m pretty sure I know someone who can help us.”

“Who?”

Victor considered telling Katsuki to shove off, but what was the point? “He’s an old client that I tried to help. Things...did not work out for him and I helped smuggle him out here. Let’s go before someone decides we’re worth mugging.”


	9. In Spring, the Ice can Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> :)

Yuuri cranes his head up, squinting at the concrete and slab structures far overhead. Perhaps at one time this place would have been reconstructed and preserved as Old Sigma, but with the war it had been overrun with squatters too poor to rent a home, avians without papers, avians outed, and any of the human flotsam that couldn’t maintain a grip on even the most humble shack within the boundaries of Met-Sig. The buildings were solid structures but mismatched paint swatches pointed to graffiti being a problem. “Wow... This place is...” He looked around the relatively neat roads and sidewalks, though cracked and buckling, trash was scarce. “Whenever they show it on TV it’s always so...”

“Dirty?”

“Yeah, like a warzone. The footage on TV and newspapers always show broken glass in the streets, people starving in the gutters. And if this place takes up all of the old buildings then it’s a lot bigger. I wonder just how many people live here, I never realized...”

“Didn’t realize or didn’t care enough about the people here to give a rat’s ass?”

“Mm, you’re right. I just didn’t care.” Yuuri doesn’t stop gawking at the buildings and how everything looks just like any modern urban city.

Victor huffs, unsure if he likes the answer. “Well, at least stop looking like a tourist. It’s embarrassing.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, just heaves his bag higher and stops looking skyward. It’s barely dawn and people are starting to go about their business, bakeries and cafes are opening their doors to the cracked streets. Dingy metal carts roll by, hawking breakfast pastries, carefully avoiding pot holes. As they walk, the city fills with both human and avians. Yuuri’s amazed at the mix, for every human there are at least five or six winged. Yuuri says something to that effect. “It must be why there’s no fighting. If there were any less avians I’m sure the humans would take it out on them.”

Victor nodded, “The media is fantastic at riling up the masses within met-sig, but here? More difficult.” Victor veers off the main street and goes into a large alleyway stamped with graffiti of all colors. He stares at graffiti on a brick wall and Yuuri looks at it too. It’s weird letters that are neither his mother tongue not English nor the current standard. His gaze slides to the hatched lines right next to the picture Victor is trying to decipher. He steps closer and runs his hands along the hatches. “This is nationalist cross hatches.”

Victor gawks at him, his mouth falling open. “Are.... you a nationalist?”

“Ah... no. My sister though... I’m pretty sure... looking back...” Yuuri continues to squint at the cross hatching, “I wonder what it says.”

“No time!” Victor shrugs and snaps his fingers, beckoning Yuuri to follow him. “I know where to go. It shouldn’t be far. Someone there will give us directions and maybe a floor to sleep on.”

Yuuri doesn’t bother hiding his surprise. “You really want to go back?”

“Don’t you?” Victor leads them past grungy streets where little kids and their older siblings play. Yuuri almost gets pegged by a ball and Victor has to bite back a grin.

“You don’t really seem happy to be a rebel.”

“No?” Victor is only half paying attention, trying to find his way in an unfamiliar city.

Yuuri scrunches his nose and scratches his head, “What I meant was... You don’t like violence and you’re forcing yourself to learn something you don’t like. You were a famous lawyer, I can’t imagine you staying at that camp forever.”

“I’m famous?” They wait for dilapidated some junkers to stop at an intersection before crossing.

“Infamous, whatever. You were always on TV arguing about one thing or another.” Yuuri’s voice is tinged with awe.

Victor’s face feels hot. “I’d forgotten... I did work a lot of high profile cases.” But something catches in his throat, a doubt, a seed of resentment. “When I was processed at the prison... Did people know who I was?”

Yuuri frowns to himself, his lips turning into a thin line. “Of course they knew, we all recognized you. The week after you were caught there was a rash of high profile accusations of avianism. The district attorney... the sixth circuit judge.”

Victor stepped around a puddle of something dark and noxious-smelling, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself against the anger. “I know them. They are good people.”

“Avians,” corrected Yuuri softly, “They were revealed. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll bet you are.”

Yuuri winces, but keeps his voice steady, “You know I’m not happy about that, it's depressing.” Victor presses his lips together hard and doesn’t say anything.

“We’re here.” Victor allows a gaggle of school-age children to swirl around him and points to a non-descript metal door.

Yuuri frowns at the front of a building without name or windows. It’s just a steel door that says, ELECTRONICS in standard. “I feel like we’re going to get butchered in there.”

“Don’t be stupid. I know what I’m doing.” Victor’s anger makes him sharp.

“Don’t you always,” says Yuuri, it’s neither question nor answer, and Victor doesn’t know how to respond so he just knocks on the door. A buzzer signals the door being unlocked and they pull the door open.

The waiting room has three spindly chairs and is blocked off by a high counter stained in grease. There’s a metallic tang in the air and several lights are busted overhead. Behind the counter there are high shelves full of electronics and books that obscure the back of the shop. Yuuri thinks he sees a staircase curling upwards at the very back. Victor takes a lungful of hot, metallic air as he raps on the formica counter, “Hello? Anyone home?” Victor cocks his head to the side when a voice calls out from the back.

“A minute! I’m coming!”

Victor keeps his back straight and his shoulders loose as he slips into his mother tongue. [Hi! I’m looking for inform-Georgi!] Victor forgets himself and yelps happily as he jumps over the counter to hug his friend.

Yuuri gapes at Victor throwing himself at the tall man behind the counter. The stranger looks intimidating at first, but he’s almost instantly in tears once he recognizes Victor. Yuuri guesses this is an old friend. And as he watches Victor hang onto his person Yuuri realizes that he’s never seen Victor be so physically affectionate with anyone. Sure, Victor pats Yuri on the head and allows others to squeeze his shoulders, but Yuuri knows for a fact that Mila gives better hugs than anyone. He also knows that Celestino prefers one-armed bear hugs, that Chris would rather slap your back than hug you, that the harder Yuri pinches you is in direct relation to how pleased he is. He doesn’t remember anyone being physically affectionate with Victor. Yuuri narrows his eyes as Victor and the yet-unnamed stranger continue to talk excitedly, still clasping arms, forgetting him. And Yuuri realizes that it’s the way Victor holds himself, aloof and wary, he doesn’t allow people to be close. He’s cold and perfect and thorny. Yuuri narrows his eyes further, wondering why he gives a shit, when he hears Victor say his name and then name met-sig’s avian detention center. The stranger’s eyes slide to him and Yuuri stiffens, his back hitting the wall, but the stranger is all sympathy. He clicks his tongue and says, “Yuuri, right? Don’t worry, Vitya explained everything. Come on back so we can straighten things out. You two look dead on your feet!”

Both Yuuri and Victor follow Georgi up the stairs, Georgi pausing only to yell something at a young woman sitting in front of a TV. She rolls her eyes until she catches sight of them. Scowling, she snaps at Georgi and then goes to the front of the store.

“My sister,” explains Georgi, “is a teenager. Pity me.”

Yuuri offers him a puzzled smile, but remains quiet as Georgi chatters all the way up the stairs.

“Shower,” says Georgi firmly, pointing to a door and nudging Yuuri towards it. “You smell _awful._ I’ll bring you some clothes while those get washed.”

Victor follows Georgi into a tidy kitchen and sits in the metal chair Georgi pulls out for him. [I can’t believe you’re alive, Vitya! I saw on the news you.... you were arrested], Georgi gulps and Victor blinks away his tears, [I must have wept for days.]

[You and me both], says Victor, something he would never admit to anyone less emotional than Georgi, [I thought I was going to die in there.] Victor’s mouth feels clumsy, but it’s like walking old streets again.

Georgi searches Victor’s face and grips Victor’s hand again, [How on earth did you get out? I thought...] Victor manages to pull himself together to squeeze Georgi’s hand in reassurance.

[Long story. And terrible!] Victor forces himself to laugh or risk breaking down, [I’m sorry to come here like this without warning, but do you know where we can find food and shelter for the night? We’re...] Victor hesitates, unsure of how much to share, [The rebels helped us.]

Georgi gasps, [You came here on the rebel’s signals?! You and your lover?]

Victor balks, his laughter bordering on hysterical, [Oh my God Georgi! I had forgotten about you and your assumptions.]

Georgi smiles ruefully, [Maybe I just like digging for information and teasing you.] The smile slips off his face, [Be serious now, how did you get here? Have you really fallen in with terrorists?] Georgi looks frightened.

Victor shrugs, [It was better than being ripped apart at met-sig detention center] He involuntarily shudders and Georgi pats his knee. [What else was I suppose to do?]

[You’re right my friend, of course you had to stay with those rebels. But why are you _here?_ ]

[We got separated, the rebels attacked a convoy.] Victor winced at Georgi’s horrified expression. [I know, I know! But at the rebel’s camp it’s work to eat.]

[And you want to go back?]

[What else am I supposed to do?] asks Victor crossly, and Georgi makes a soothing noise.

[I didn’t mean to question you, my friend. You can stay here with Yuuri until you decide what to do. Don’t worry.]

[Absolutely not, we just need to contact the rebels and then we’ll be out of your hair.]

Georgi rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, frowning at Victor. [I know you are just worried about me and my sister, but I’ve been handling trouble with the so-called authorities for a couple of years now. Two well-behaved runaways won’t bring the police on me.] Georgi patted Victor’s head, [Sweet, summer child.]

[I’m only a year younger than you, goose.] Victor smiles.

[Oh!] Georgi lifted his gaze, “Yuuri, fresh summer blossom! Your turn Victor, you smell like death. Lunch will be ready once you’re out. Sit, Yuuri! Sit sit sit.”

“Umm, okay.” Yuuri gingerly takes a seat.

...

Victor spent a long time in the shower, itching the scales on his shoulders and gently threading his fingers through his wings, tugging out shed feathers and down. His wings were waterproof which was nice except now when he needed to get dirt and slime out of them. When he emerged, pruney but clean, he found Yuuri sprawled on the floor of the living room absorbed in reorganizing what remained of his medic bag. Bag in question had been scrubbed and hung under the room’s vent. Yuuri didn’t appear to notice him so Victor quietly sat on the ratty couch and watched Yuuri count and organize his supplies. Victor wasn’t sure what sort of system for organization Yuuri used because it made no sense to him, but Yuuri was apparently satisfied and bundled everything back up, making four neat compact bundles with a few extras tossed into the bag. He jumped when he saw Victor.

Victor saw Yuuri wasn’t going to say anything anytime soon so he spoke, “Georgi isn’t an avian, but he was the only person I felt comfortable telling when I started molting. He...” Victor shook his head, “ We lost contact... Wow... Five? Six years ago?”

Yuuri shifted, “How’d you know he was here?”

“I didn’t. But I know how to find shelter in these types of places. Georgi was a bonus stroke of luck. What are you doing?”

“I was...just seeing what we had left. It’s not a lot, but... we could probably leave these here.” Yuuri pointed to two of the bundles. “As thanks... I know it’s not much,” he repeated. And Victor recognized the desperation in Yuuri’s eyes.

“I didn’t tell Georgi who you were. Before.” Victor slid to the floor so they were level, “I just told him that you’re a medic with the rebels. So what you do with that is up to you, I guess.”

Confirming Victor’s suspicions, Yuuri sagged down into a puddle of relief, he scrubbed his cheeks sighing hugely. “Yuuri, remind me to play poker with you next time you have something I want.”

Yuuri scowled at him.

“Lunch!” Georgi came into the room, gently banging on a bent cooking lid with a spoon, “Lunch, you two!”

Yuuri scrambled for two of the bundles and walked over to Georgi, “Um, here. As thanks. For your help.” Yuuri stumbled over his words, he placed the packages onto the dented metal cooking lid without looking at Georgi and rushed into the kitchen. Georgi looked at Victor who shrugged, hands splayed out in the universal, _No fucking clue._

Georgi had made some sort of sticky oatmeal-like, citrus-smelling concoction that both Yuuri and Victor stared at. Georgi chuckled, “Trust me when I say that this stuff sells like butter. It’s filling, nutritious, and doesn’t taste like vomit.”

“It looks like vomit,” Yuuri mutters, poking the hot mess. He looks up quickly, eyes wide and Georgi grins.

“You wound me!” Georgi pretends to swoon into a chair.

Victor watches Yuuri quickly taste the citrus-smelling puddy. His eyes widen in shock and he begins shoveling it into his mouth. “Ta da!” sings Georgi, “A convert!”

Victor laughs and tastes it, and it’s delicious. It tastes vaguely like oranges, yet savory and he’s vaguely reminded of tofu or wet rice for the texture. It tastes like cashews in his throat, he finishes it quickly and Georgi spoons more into both their bowls.

“When was the last time you ate?” asked Georgi, looking faintly scandalized. Victor counts back, realizes it hasn’t been that long. He still eats the entire second bowl.

“You sell this?” Yuuri asks.

“Sure do. Like hot bread.”

“You’re a genius,” says Yuuri fervently and Georgi laughs again, blushing at the praise. After lunch Georgi knowingly tells them to crash in the living room before they fall asleep on the table. He gives them blankets and firmly shoos them out. “I’ll do the dishes, don’t worry.”

Yuuri throws himself onto a couch and huddles under the blanket, but Victor can’t get comfortable. He feels cramped on the couch, eventually he gives up trying to sleep, padding into the kitchen on bare feet. Georgi rolls his eyes at Victor. “Tea?”

“You know me so well.”

Georgi snorts, “Hasn’t sleeping in the woods broken you of your 600 thread count habits?”

“Laugh it up, it’s these blasted wings. Can’t sleep on my back and sleeping on my stomach isn’t comfortable for my back either.” Victor sighed, half-stretching his wings, careful not to knock anything over.

“They’re beautiful,” Georgi smiled, “It’s such a shame... Well no use lamenting it now. I think I have a mat somewhere in the back. I’ll bring it and you can sleep on the floor.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you Georgi.”

“Awww, and here I thought I was the sentimental one.”

.....

It was a nightmare, Victor _knew_ it was a nightmare. He could unerringly differentiate between his daytime fears and the fanciful nighttime horrors. That didn’t make it easier. He forced himself to swim up from the depths and opened his eyes briefly. Moonlight tinged Georgi’s apartment into gray. Victor tried to claw his way back up, but he sunk deeper into sleep and his surreal fears.

But the dreams were soon soothed into a calm haze, Victor sighed and shifted, cracking his eyes open again. Georgi’s apartment swam back into view and Victor shook himself with another rib-expanding breath, he licked his lips. There was a warm weight on his back lying between his wings, it was steadying and grounding. He shifted his arms that were cushioned under his stomach and became aware of the line of warmth on his right that ran from shoulder to hip. Victor huffed once more and blinked his tears away, the warmth on his back pressed him down and between the haze of sleep Victor realized there were fingers splayed along the nape of his neck.

He slept.

......

Victor awoke with the sunrise, his mouth felt gross, but he felt well rested enough to share a pot of coffee with Georgi. They were chatting quietly when the front store’s bell rang. [Sorry, Vitya. But I have to work. My sister is still sleeping.]

[Can I watch you work?] Victor grinned at Georgi who nodded.

[Where’s your partner?] They made their way down the stairs and into the shop. A slim lady with a mole under her eye waited for them, holding something that was clearly busted. She had soft brown wings that looked much too large for her, dragging on the ground like a sweeping cape.

[Still sleeping. I’ll wake him later. I’m feeling generous today. I slept very well!] Victor stretched, smiling.

[Don’t you usually sleep well? I remember you having three alarm clocks in middle school.] Georgi turned towards the customer, “Welcome back Miss Okukawa.”

“Mister Popovich,” said the lady, her nose in the air. Victor raised an eyebrow at Georgi who only smiled, “Miss Okukawa helps run the orphanage. This an old friend of mine, Victor Nikiforov. He’s a lawyer.” Georgi said this last part with so much pride that Victor grinned.

“A lawyer?” Miss Okukawa turned her head a fraction, her eyes were bright but cold. “What are you doing here?” She handed over a busted machine, addressing Georgi, “The children decided that a spoofer would make a lovely landing pad.”

Victor was unsure whether he should answer the question or if Miss Okukawa had dismissed him.

“You’ll want a loaner, in the meantime then.” said Georgi, looking at the crushed machine, “It’ll be fifty credits for the repair, loaner’s deposit is a hundred.”

“Fifty?”

Georgi fidgeted and Victor felt uncomfortable. “Yes fifty. Can you not pay? I’m willing to offer you a payment plan, if-”

Miss Okukawa looked Victor up and down before huffing loudly and snapping to Georgi, “I’m giving you 75, Mister Popovich, not _fifty_ ,” She sneered at the paltry number. “If you go out of business we’ll all suffer. You never answered my question Mister Nikiforov.”

“I... well...” Victor shook out his wings, out of habit he’d them tucked out of sight, and Miss Okukawa raised a single eyebrow. “Got caught.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Miss Okukawa, softening. Her phone rang and she turned away answering in a different language.

[Miss Okukawa has an interesting story. She’s been around the world with her daughter until very recently.]

Victor nodded, uninterested, “What time is it?”

“You’re not thinking of leaving right now are you? I don’t even think Yuuri’s awake.” Georgi turned the machine over in his hands, he shook it and it rattled.

Miss Okukawa jerked back around, still on the phone.

“We’re imposing on you,” Victor shifted so the lady couldn’t see his face, [and the people back at camp don’t know we’re alive. We owe it to them to let them know we’re alive.] Victor turned to her and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you Miss Okukawa.”

Miss Okukawa nodded once, “All mine.”

.....

“I can’t believe you’re still asleep. It’s almost brunch time! Get up, we have to go.”

No response from the lump on the couch.

“Hellooo?” Victor poked the shock of black hair peeking out from the blankets. The lump snuggled deeper into the covers, mumbling.

“Come on, the couch isn’t _that_ comfortable, “ Victor lost all patience, he pressed his weight onto the lump, “Up! Up! Up!”

The lump wriggled and pushed him away.

“Rude! Very rude!” Victor placed his hands on the lump and bounced him up and down.

He was ready when the kick came. Victor skipped back but the force of the kick tumbled Yuuri from the couch.

“Good morning, my sunshine!” said Victor brightly.

Yuuri looked dead. He dropped his forehead back onto the couch, muttering unflattering things about Victor’s family line.

“Not a morning bird? You look like someone murdered you.”

Yuuri didn’t respond and sagged further onto the floor, moaning pitifully. Victor sighed and went into the kitchen to start a new pot of coffee. Georgi came into the kitchen, still holding the machine. “Do you really have to leave?”

“Yes.” said Victor firmly, “I’m surprised the police haven’t knocked on your door.”

Georgi finally looked troubled, “I still think you should stay, but if you’re determined to leave can you at least share some information from the convoy that was hit? It might help avoid trouble for others if I can share the information.”

Victor hesitated.

“Stolen supplies,” croaked Yuuri, standing in the doorway, the blanket draped around his shoulders. He looked like the morning hours were his personal hell. “Medicine. Food. Clothing.”

“And... where are these stolen supplies? Where are they being sold?”

Victor shook his head, “None of them. It was for the rebels.”

Yuuri wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, looking like a grumpy porcupine and sunk into one of the chairs.

Georgi put down the broken machine and served three cups of coffee and two large bowls of his special oatmeal mush. [So cute, Victor! Look at him! He’s definitely not a morning person.]

Yuuri squinted at Georgi, “What language is that? It doesn’t sound standardized.”

[You haven’t changed at all. At _all_.] Victor groaned and got up, “I’m going to go see if the clothes are clean and then take a shower.”

“Eat first,” protested Georgi, but Victor ignored him and left. Georgi pointed to a chair and slid one of the mugs towards Yuuri who stared into the depths of his coffee as if he could divine his future from it. Hopefully one that included him going back to bed.

“He’s not that bad.” said Georgi over the rim of his coffee, “A bit dramatic-“

Yuuri snorted in agreement and Georgi grinned. “It’s Russian. Before the reforms went out. That’s what we were speaking. Do you speak any of the old languages?”

“Japanese. Thanks to my sister and mentor.”

“Ah,” Georgi sensed that he’d stumbled onto something delicate and didn’t push any further, “It’s all bullshit about national pride being bad, don’t you agree?”

Yuuri’s nodded morosely, “Oh definitely. My sister was especially passionate about that.”

“Was she?” Georgi stirred his coffee, “How passionate?”

Yuuri glances at him sharply and Georgi chuckled, holding a hand out in peace, “Myself? Very attached to the old tongue. Anyway, you were never recruited?”

Yuuri shakes his head with vehemence, “Too young.”

Victor came back in with an armful of clothing, “Anyway Georgi, where can we find a radio, a powerful one? One that I might have a chance at using?” he adds.

Georgi closes his eyes and sips his coffee, “ Well... If you’re determined to leave me here bereft of friendship-“ Victor snorts and Georgi opens his eyes, smiling softly, “I might know some people who’ll want to help you without selling you out, probably.”

 “That’s not reassuring,” said Victor, sitting down next to Georgi and polishing off a bowl of food.

“Well it’s all I have,” said Georgi tartly, “It’s the airwave pirates or nothing.”

“Pirates?” asked Yuuri, finally looking halfway awake, his eyes were wide.

Georgi laughed, “Isn’t it romantic? Pirates!”

Victor groaned and covered his face. “You’re such a dreamer, Georgi. These people- What’s so helpful about them?“

“They have a radio show and they like interesting stories. They might be persuaded to help if you can convince them with a cool story, something for their listeners.” Georgi batted his thick and ridiculous eyelashes at Victor. “Something romantic?”

“I guess I can think of something, not romantic though.”

“Awww,” pouted Georgi before turning to Yuuri, “Do _you_ have anything romantic stories to share? I’m a sucker for it.”

Yuuri shakes his head and Georgi points to his jaw, “What about that nasty old thing?”

Yuuri’s hand flew to the scars on his face, the three dimpled circles were still healing, the scars smoothing and softening every day. But he knew they’d never completely turn over unless he got surgery. Victor’s eyes widened fractionally.

“Uh...” Yuuri worried whether the coffee mug might break under his grip.

“He got that...while...well who _cares_ how Yuuri got those tiny scars. Check _this_ out!” With a flourish Victor ripped his shirt off and turned around. Georgi gasped horrified and Yuuri hid his eyes for a second before peeking up.

“Can I?” Georgi reaches out, but holds his fingers in the air.

“Sure.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Evil, sadistic doctors happened. Not being human happened,” said Victor, sliding his eyes to Yuuri who squeaked. Georgi noticed and glanced at Yuuri.

“But Yuuri helped right?” Georgi gently runs his fingers across the knots and valleys of Victor’s back.

“I tried,” said Yuuri, “But Victor wasn’t...didn’t want anyone touching him when he first got to camp.“

“Really?” Georgi’s eyes were wide in surprise, “That’s unusual.”

“That’s right, “said Victor, laughing, “I didn’t even let Ciao Ciao come near me. I totally forgot about that. It seems like ages ago.” Victor steps out of reach from Georgi and shrugs back into his shirt.

“You should know better than to let Victor bully you.” Georgi turns reproaching eyes on Yuuri, “You have a duty to heal people. Whether they want it or not.”

“I don’t,” said Yuuri firmly, “If someone doesn’t want medical attention, I don’t give it.”

“Trust me Georgi, it’s an improvement in attitude,” says Victor in a stage whisper. Yuuri flushes dark red and picks his clothes up, rushing out of the kitchen.

“It is...?” Georgi purses his lips, “You two are hiding something big from me and it makes me feel left out.” He pouts, batting his eyelashes, “Not fair.”

“Whoop de doo, Popovich.” Victor keeps his voice light and teasing, “Where’s your girl anyway? I thought you two’d be married with a team of children by now.”

Georgi places a hand over his heart, “ She’s a distant star on the horizon! She has decided that my presence pales her fire!“

“Oh!” Victor actually feels embarrassed for Georgi, “For crying out loud, you are _hopeless_ , and I am _embarrassed_ for you.”

“Hmph,” Georgi pouts, “And you need to get laid.“ Victor sputters and Georgi grins, impudent and unabashed. “I’m serious. Maybe Yuuri will do you a favor, is he your friend? I honestly cannot tell.”

“Shut the fuck up and _never_ say that again,” said Victor, hissing.

“Yikes. Did I hit a nerve?”

Victor looks at Georgi sideways, “You wouldn’t joke around like that if you knew... well never mind. It’s in the past I guess.”

“Ah,” said Georgi, “He rejected you.”

“I give up, you’re ridiculous. Just get me another bowl of your mush and directions to your pirates.” but Victor giggles at Georgi’s over-dramatic pout.

Georgi tries to protest when Victor insists at leaving, but Victor pushes Yuuri outside while he gives Georgi one last hug. Yuuri pretends not to notice how wet Victor’s eyes are as they walk away.

They’ve been walking only ten minutes when Victor says, “You never thanked me for getting us a bath and a meal _and_ a bed. You’re welcome.”

Yuuri stares at him, amazed at the rudeness. “You don’t see me asking for thanks for last night after I-“ Yuuri turned pink and clamped his mouth shut.

“After you what?” asked Victor, suspicious. He has the sinking feeling of stepping into shit with bare feet.

“N-nothing,” said Yuuri, “Where is this place anyway?” They’re standing in front of a store with glass windows barred against thieves.

“Oh hell no am I letting this go,” Victor spun and pushed Yuuri back, but with the crowds of people around them they were jostled into standing on the shop’s entrance. “What did you do?”

“I-“ Yuuri looks like he’s willing to throw himself in front of a bus to escape Victor, he’s blushing so hard that Victor wonders if Yuuri’s going to suffer an aneurysm right then and there.

“Hey! Get the _fuck_ away from my property you filthy hobos!” a large woman with scars decorating her face and arms yanks the door open, she’s holding a metal bat. “I can’t have you stinking up my place of business!”

“Sorry!” squeaked Yuuri, backing away and almost running into the streaming crowds. Victor snagged a finger around his collar, forcibly dragging him back, ignoring the indignant squeak Yuuri made and spoke to the large woman.

“We’re looking for Miss Yang, the pirate!” Victor smiles his best charming smile, 200 megawatts, fusion reactor, solar storm smile. “We have a kraken of a story for her!” He softens the smile slightly, and makes himself look mysterious.

The woman looks at Victor like he’s lost his marbles and Yuuri wants to agree. Victor’s making a stupid face and almost choking Yuuri, his fingers digging into the skin of his neck unpleasantly. Victor’s hold is tight and Yuuri twists around so he’s not being strangled when Victor shakes his wings loose, like an offering or a secret handshake. The large woman relaxes, if only fractionally.

“We’re not here on business per se,” says Victor, finally releasing Yuuri, “we’re asking for a favor and in return we have a story for Miss Yang.”

The woman grunts, “What kind of story?”

Victor sucks on his teeth, as if debating whether this woman was trustworthy or not. Yuuri elbows him. “What have you heard of the prison break from the avian detention center?”

The woman shrugs, “Almost nothing. The government’s kept tight lips about it. You have info about what happened?” Victor and Yuuri nod at the same time and the woman relaxes her posture, “Well... You can come in then, I suppose we can kill you later if you turn out to be police or something.”

“Great!” Victor steps forward, “It’s a deal then, where is Miss Yang?”

“First you must speak with my son, he’ll decide if you get to see Izzy.”

Yuuri squawks then and Victor winces. “ _Izzy_ Yang _?”_

The woman smiles at Yuuri, “You’re a fan?”

Yuuri looks star struck, he’s clutching his bag close “I get to meet her? Really?”

The woman laughs and shrugs, “Maybe. If your story is good enough.”

“It is!” assures Yuuri, “We-”

Victor yanks on Yuuri’s ear, “Shut up!”

“What did you say your name was?” The woman is staring intently at Yuuri.

Yuuri grabs Victor’s wrist tightly, “Victor was there! He escaped and came to camp with about ten? Ten avians from the detention center.” He jerks his head towards Victor. “I’m just the rebel camp’s medic, one of them.”

Nathalie scratches her arms, “Come inside, I’ll find some chairs and you’ll talk to my son and me. Tell us what all the fuss is about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the encouraging comments! They're really nice pick me ups!!


	10. Run of Bulls

“I’m Nathalie Leroy. Sit here while I get my son.” The woman motioned to a set of metal chairs in the short hallway. “If you decide to go wandering around,” she pointed her spiked metal bat at them, “I’ll bash your heads in without remorse.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused.

Nathalie chuckled and left the hallway, slipping into a room.

“You think she would _really_ be able to bash both our heads in?” Victor leaned against the wall, ignoring the chair. “One of us sure, but both?”

Yuuri took one of the chairs, propping his ankle on his knee. “She looked determined enough to try.”

“Was I imagining the blood on the bat?”

Yuuri jiggled his leg, “I wouldn’t put it past her to not wash that thing.”

Victor cocked his head, “You know what I’m curious about? How do you know so much about these people? I can’t imagine you listening to pirated avian radio. Ugh, that sounded like some smarmy TV show.”

“Smarm suits you,” said Yuuri absently, tugging on the frayed ends of his jeans, “I never got the chance to actually listen to Izzy Yang on air, I’ve just heard stories of her and poor JJ through some of Phichit’s more, um... more dubious friendships. I only ever heard Nathalie on air, and only because of my sister. That was years ago.”

“Wow,” Victor pondered what that meant. “So you turned out to be the evil sibling.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, just glanced at Victor balefully and nudged his chin into a hand to stare down the hallway.

“What have we here?” A grey-eyed man entered the hallway, “My mother said you wished to speak with Izzy?” He frowned at them, taking one of the chairs. Yuuri noted the knife hanging from his belt.

“Wow, Victor,” said Yuuri abruptly, “Can you believe you get to meet JJ _in person?_ You _are_ JJ, right?”

JJ smiled and it lit up his face, “Why of course! Always a pleasure to meet a fan... Victor was it?”

Yuuri covered his smirk as JJ pumped a bemused Victor’s hand up and down.

“Uhhh... Right... Fan...Yes. Definitely...” said Victor. It should have been a blessing, that Yuuri did something to break the ice. Cold meets were the worst way to start negotiations. But Victor had the sinking suspicion that Yuuri didn’t do that to be nice or smooth over introductions. In fact, Victor had the sinking suspicion that he’d inadvertently stepped in a big pile of shit by bringing up Yuuri’s sister.

 _Oh well, I’ll deal with that later._ Victor smiled brightly. “Thank you for talking with us, JJ!” He took a moment to take a careful look at JJ. He wasn’t older twenty, with burning grey eyes and an almost unnoticeable tic in his cheek. From a trauma? The young man’s clothes were jewel toned, but looked practical enough. Victor thought the steel-toed boot and knife on his belt were a bit of overkill, probably meant to intimidate. Curious and ridiculous; it felt like a peacock was on display.

“So, what can I do for a fan?” asked JJ, “Autograph? Advice?”

Yuuri shifted in his seat, his hand coming up over his mouth as if to cover a cough.

“Actually.... We were looking to make an exchange,” said Victor, trying to wrestle the conversation back to topic, “We’re part of the rebels out north and we got separated. We’d appreciate the opportunity to contact them so they know we’re alive and well, and to ask for a pick up.”

JJ almost instantly dropped the overly friendly act and Victor was extremely relieved, he gave JJ a wan smile. “There was a skirmish the other day, that’s when we lost contact-“

“Oh!” said JJ, his eyes going back to burning bright, “You’re rebel _fighters_!”

“ _I’m_ just a medic, but Victor was in the middle of that excitement,” chirped Yuuri, his face earnest. JJ nodded at Yuuri, barely giving him a glance.

“A medic, that’s nice. But you!” said JJ to Victor, “Were a part of the fighting! Real fighting!”

“I guess I was,” Victor winced at the slight lie.

“Humble to boot,” declared JJ, then he grimaced. “But I’m afraid that’s not enough. You’ll have to actually prove you’re a rebel and not... the police or something.”

“Oh,” said Victor sweetly, “I can assure you _I’m_ not.”

“I see the wings. But what about your friend?”

Victor glanced at Yuuri, “He’s working on it.”

Yuuri glared at Victor. “It’s not like they give us identification cards.”

JJ spread out his hands before himself, “I’m sorry guys, but unless you have concrete proof, I just can’t let you in past this hallway. Can you think of _anything_ at all that’d set you apart?”

“Names,” said Victor abruptly. “We obviously know names and stupid information that wouldn’t be known to someone who’s faking. But that would only work with someone _you_ trust to believe our information.”

“My mother will know,” said JJ slowly, “she always keeps in contact with the rebels. You can talk to her and confirm your identities.”

“Then we can talk to Miss Yang?” asked Victor hopefully.

JJ wrinkled his nose, “Don’t know why you’d want to. Anything you tell me will make it to her.”

“Because it’s _her_ radio,” said Victor sharply.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Yuuri, “I can talk to Miss Yang while you and JJ hang out.”

“What?! I’m not worried about _that,_ why would-“

JJ grinned again, “What a great friend! That sounds marvelous.”

Victor sputtered, but Yuuri just said, “Victor would _love_ to spend time with you.”

JJ _beamed_ at Victor, “No need to be flustered, my friend! Wait here while I call my mother back.” JJ sweeps away with a bright smile.

Victor barely had enough time to make a rude gesture at Yuuri before Nathalie comes back, listening intently to whatever JJ is whispering into her ear.

...

Victor has a headache by the time Nathalie Leroy is done with him and Yuuri doesn’t look much better. She claps Yuuri on the back, hard enough to make him stumble and says, “Send my regards and condolences to Ciao Ciao. Now both of you look beat, I’d say it’s lunch time, follow me.”

“Celestino knows Nathalie?” Victor keeps his voice low as Nathalie leads them into a dining room, she and JJ bustle in and out of the room carrying plates and silverware.

Yuuri groans, “She made Celestino sound like some sort of Casanova, so I’m starting to think that he just fucked his way through whatever camp he was currently living in up until recently.”

Caught off guard, Victor laughed, startling Yuuri. “Oh, that’s a nasty mental image. Celestino fucking-“

“Stop,” Yuuri shut his eyes, “Stop stop stop. I have to work with him.”

Victor lowered his voice even further, “You think he slept with Nathalie? Just think-”

Yuuri put his head down, hands going over his ears, “Enough!”

Luckily JJ and Nathalie sit down to eat before Victor can say anything else about that particular subject. Halfway through a lunch conversation that Yuuri ignores, Victor says, “I thought Miss Yang was going to lunch with us.”

“Why are you so interested in talking with my Izzy? Whatever you say to me will get to her,” JJ frowns at him.

“Ah,” said Victor, _here is the crux_ , “As I mentioned before, I need to use the radio to contact our rebel friends to let them know we’re alive.”

“That-“ said a young woman with dew drop eyes, entering the room, “would be a very foolish idea. Dramatic entrance aside,” she smiled mischievously at Victor before kissing both Nathalie and JJ. She sat down with a sigh. “JJ, dear... a plate please? I’m ex- _hausted­._ ”

“Did it not go well today Izzy?” Nathalie asked, filling a cup for her. Yuuri straightened, suddenly looking more interested in present company.

“It went perfect, just takes it out of me, you know? Who are these dashing men, Mama?”

“Ah, supposedly rebels.”

“Supposedly?” asks Victor, flicking his fork out at Nathalie. “Miss Yang, correct? I’ll have you know that Nathalie interrogated us for an hour, _each_. Yuuri is permanently scarred over imagining Celestino bending over-“

“Stop it!” Yuuri kicked him under the table.

“Interrogated?” Nathalie snorted, “Hardly. The tall one is Victor and the embarrassed one is Yuuri. They have a story for you in exchange-“

Izzy nodded, “For using the radio, I heard. But my type of radio isn’t one-to-one. It’s all or nothing for miles. Anyone who has an anchor gets the signal.”

 _Crap_ , Victor grimaced, unsure of what to do.

“But,” said Izzy, “I can arrange a ride to the rebel camp, I know people who know where it is. Probably. What were you planning on offering me?” JJ came back with a plate of food which Izzy dug into.

Victor drummed his fingers on the table, “Probably isn’t reassuring, I’d like reassurance we make it there in one piece.”

Izzy shrugged, “Well I could ask and make sure, but I’m going to need something _good_ from you.”

Victor wasn’t sure if the whole train robbery would be considered good enough; in the scheme of things it was a squabble, nothing more.

“The prison,” said Yuuri suddenly, “Several avians escaped, including Victor.“

“ _You_ were part of that?!” Izzy leaned her elbows on the table, piercing eyes on Victor.

Victor froze for less than a second before relaxing. “Yes. Ten in total escaped, it was quite the awful and harrowing experience to be in there. The escape was quite exciting though.”

“How long were you at the-“

Victor tensed, his hands curling into tight fists. “No, I’m not talking about _that,_ ” his voice shook slightly, “You can have the story of how we escaped or nothing at all.” He stood, shoving his chair back and they all watched him run out of the room.

“I am so sorry,” said Izzy to Yuuri, “I, of all people, should know better than to go digging for painful memories like that. I’ll go apologize right now.”

It took most of Yuuri’s self-control not to look at JJ who’d suddenly become very interested in his fork.

“You can try, Miss Yang, but it takes him a while to cool down.”

“Nonsense,” said Izzy, “Apologies are best served piping hot.”

....

Victor didn’t want to go poking in rooms, not with Nathalie still wielding that spiked bat, so he found an open niche with a couple of chairs to hide in. He knew someone was going to come looking for him eventually, but he didn’t expect it to be Miss Yang. Victor wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or relieved it was her.

“I’m very sorry for being so callous, Victor.” Izzy sat in the other chair, tucking her legs underneath herself. “I should know better, seeing as JJ’s my fiancé and all.”

Victor gathered himself, wound everything up into a tight coil until he could confidently say that it wouldn’t come gushing out on an unsuspecting radio show host. He put on a strained smile; appearing too cheery after that embarrassing outburst would have been unnerving, even for him. “I just needed a moment. You didn’t know. It was a while, after all, it shouldn’t still affect me.”

Izzy reached over and slapped his thigh, making Victor jump, “Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t _do_ that creepy thing JJ does it all the time. Well, he _used_ to do it before I broke him of it, because frankly it’s disturbing and weird.”

“Do... what?” Victor rubbed his wrist in an attempt to soothe himself.

“Where you pretend everything is okay and make that porcelain smile, it’s creepy and I’m sure Yuuri doesn’t appreciate it.”

“I...” Victor laughed. He gripped the armchair tightly, “Sorry, but you’re confusing me.”

“I apologize for that too,” said Izzy, smiling gently. “But anyway. To business? You wanted to barter your escape story in return for a ride to the rebel camp?”

Victor took in a deep breath, surprised at how steady he felt. “Yes. Even if we got a lift to one of the civilian camps close by, that would be enough.”

“Oh! Well you should have said so!” Izzy patted his cheek and Victor jerked back. “Ah, sorry! Don’t like strangers touching you? I’ll keep myself in check, or try to, remind me if I forget. I can definitely get you and Yuuri to a civilian camp. Now, about your story.... Give me a rough rundown, for now. I’ll want to take close notes tomorrow.”

....

Victor was relieved to be away from Izzy, she was nice and vivacious, but cloying as hell. He went into the room that Izzy had pointed out to him and found Yuuri sitting on one of the beds absently rolling two vials between the palms of his hands, staring off into space

“What are you doing?”

Yuuri looked up startled, and squinted at him. Oh right, Yuuri didn’t have his glasses. “It’s me. I just finished talking to Izzy, she agreed to help.”

“I know it’s you. I’m blind, not deaf or stupid. And I know Izzy would agree, it’s a good deal, plus she’s amazing.”

“I’m grinning, in case you can’t see. And your crush on Izzy, now that’s something else. Weird? Unexpected?”

“It’s not a crush!”

“A rose by any other name,” taunted Victor. Yuuri grimaced.

“That’s it, you’re grounded.”

Victor scoffed, “I don’t know what dream world your living in, but opt me out.”

“Oh, and here I thought you’d want to take in the sights. JJ told me of a place where I can sell these insulin vials for a fair price. I _was_ planning on splitting the money with you, but...“ Yuuri tipped his head, smiling.

“I should get half of that anyway, seeing as the only reason we’re here is thanks to me,” said Victor loftily, flicking a hand out to their surroundings.

Yuuri shook his head, but didn’t look annoyed, “True enough. So you’re coming? JJ said he was going to play ‘tour guide’. His words.”

Victor peeked outside before closing the door, “So what’s JJ’s damage?” He decided to sit on the other bed when Yuuri heaved a giant sigh and rubbed his forehead. “Tell me. I don’t want to say the wrong thing to any of our hosts.”

Yuuri conceded with a sharp nod. “Izzy’s a human. JJ’s an avian.”

Victor met Yuuri’s eyes, trying to guess the joke. JJ didn’t have wings, just a lumpy-looking back that ruined his side profile. Victor though that JJ had a congenital deformity, or scoliosis or- “Oh God no!” Victor clutched at the headboard, feeling sick. _No way that was possible_ , _absolutely not._ But a memory of Lilia resurfaced, one in which she had told Victor she expected the scientists there to strip her of her wings any day now because of her age. When had that conversation happened? Three months ago? Four? Victor wasn’t sure.

Yuuri clasped his hands, intertwining his fingers, not looking at Victor. “It happened... two years ago? He went missing for a month and when he showed up again they were just.... gone. He’s never talked about it in public. Maybe the only two people who know anything are Izzy and Nathalie.”

Victor shuddered. “So that’s why he’s...”

“Oh no, from what Phichit told me he was always that... enthusiastic-“

Victor snorted.

“-afterwards he was just more... serious.” Yuuri chewed on a nail, “It’s why Izzy is so protective of JJ, and why JJ is so relentless.”

“It’s all he can do,” muttered Victor to himself, to Yuuri he asked, “How’s that even possible. I thought it meant death to even try.”

“So did everyone else. As far as anyone knows, unless there are other victims out there, JJ’s the only one whose ever survived that torture.” Yuuri hugged himself, looking horrified.

“So...” Victor drummed his fingers on his knees, “You were never curious about how it could be done? You aren’t going to try to ask him about it? To see if you could figure it out?“ Victor was surprised to see Yuuri shocked beyond words, his mouth hanging open.

Finally Yuuri reacted, he turned red, two angry splotches spreading across his face. “You-!” Yuuri snatched his pillow up and hid his face.

Victor scoffed, “Oh come on. I’ve said worse to you.”

The door to the room opened and JJ stuck his head inside, “Ready to go? You’re coming Victor?”

Yuuri resurfaced, still looking pissed. “Oh Victor’s ready alright. He said it was a dream come true to have lunch with you. Alone.”

“Like hell I’m-“

“So while you two grab a bite to eat and reminisce,” continued Yuuri to a bewildered JJ, “I can go drop the insulin off and meet you at the outdoor market in an hour? I just need directions.”

Victor leapt to his feet, feeling embarrassed and weirded out by JJ now that Victor knew what JJ had gone through. “No that’s not necessary at all. Yuuri’s just joking-

“Not a joke,” said Yuuri firmly to JJ, “Don’t let Victor tell you that he doesn’t want this. It’s all he’s talked about.”

Victor flinches when JJ goes in for a hug. He glares at Yuuri who only stares back at him with mild brown eyes.

But JJ is a freight train and he gives Victor a dazzling smile. “Say no more Yuuri! I can see Victor is too embarrassed to admit it, but as a role model, it’s always up to me to lead the next generation of rebels-“

“I’m older than you,” snapped Victor, trying to edge away from JJ.

“Not a problem! Late bloomers can be just as wonderful! Yuuri here’s the directions to the pharmacist, Victor and I will meet you in front of the east entrance, in front of the giant plastic dinosaur. Yeah?”

“No, I-“ Victor wondered if buffeting JJ would be overtly rude and insensitive of him.

“Victor would love that,” said Yuuri, following JJ and Victor through the hallways and to the front door, “You’d better drag him away before he tries to escape.”

JJ grins at Yuuri, “I like you, little man, you’re a good friend to Victor here.”

“Oh only the best for him, “said Yuuri sweetly as JJ hauled Victor out the door and into the opposite direction.

“We’ll see you at the market!” called out JJ, “One hour!”

...

Yuuri arrived at the outdoor market before them and dithered about nervously under the ten foot tall pink t-rex adorning the east entrance.

“Beat us to it Yuuri?” JJ called to him from across the street, beaming, “Did Dr. Gutierrez give you a hard time?”

“Not really,” said Yuuri, “She did grill me on where I got the vials from though.”

“Yes, she would,” said JJ, “She’s very cautious, that Dr. Gutierrez. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to join in on this fun shopping day. I have to go talk to some important people. Be back at my home by seven alright? Or We’ll think you got kidnapped or murdered.” JJ waved good-bye and melted into the crowds thronging the avenues in front of small shops and stalls of the outdoor market.

“So how was lunch?” asked Yuuri coldly.

“You’re still mad? _I’m_ the one who had to suffer JJ for an hour, he _never_ stops talking.” Victor glanced moodily at the pink dinosaur over their heads, the apology was on the tip of his tongue. “So how much money did you get?”

“Enough so you can get something as shitty as your attitude.”

“Ooh,” said Victor in mock awe, “consider me kicked into place. Come on, we’re blocking the entrance.”

They wander through the walkways, silently moving from stall to stall. It smells like motor oil, deep fried dough, and overripe fruit; it’s not unpleasant. A clothing stall catches Victor’s attention and Yuuri follows him because it’s crowded outside and because he has nothing better to do anyway. At first Yuuri idly drags his fingers through the racks, until he spots a stack of scarves in dark colors.

Yuuri absently picks one of the scarves up. It’s a soft, dark red scarf, silk-screened with peonies in various colors. Yuuri instantly loves it, he wraps it around his neck.

The price is exorbitant and the vendor looks at him haughtily, asking if that’s really Yuuri’s color. Yuuri manages to edge the price down low enough so that it only hurts him a little to pay up. He’s surprised when the vendor throws in a set of matched pins for the scarf. Yuuri stares at the gift wordlessly and then up at the vendor who suddenly looks less haughty, and is way too close. Yuuri can see every eyelash even without his glasses, and Yuuri tears his gaze away. This person is _way_ too close, personal space still exists, right?

“What are you doing after? I close up shop at 7.” The vendor leans in further, a smirk on their lips.

Yuuri feels himself almost evaporate at the vendor’s gaze, “Um. S-sorry, I... work? At th-that time?”

“Next time then,” says the vendor smugly, “See you around.”

“O-okay... yeah... sure.”

The vendor’s smile grows wider as Yuuri, clearly flustered, backs out of the store. Victor is waiting for him outside, tapping his foot, “What’s with that face, you look embarrassed. Did you pay for that scarf or were you planning on just waltzing out of there with it?” Victor studies Yuuri who quickly goes digging for the card and hands it over.

“There’s enough left over for you to buy something. What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Yuuri burrows deeper into his scarf to avoid Victor’s scrutiny.

“Did you steal something?“

“No!” snapped Yuuri.

“Geez. Fine.” Victor slid the card into his pocket, “I asked someone where the electronics were and they pointed me that way.”

Half an hour later they’re walking towards the entrance of the market, Victor hugging a small, computer to his chest like it’s his first born.

“You look like you’re about to make out with that thing,” said Yuuri.

Victor grins broadly, “Maybe I will, if only to gross you out.”

Yuuri suddenly feels tired. Too tired to argue with Victor. “Oh there’s JJ.”

“Friends!” JJ pats them both on the shoulder, “Let’s go before we get crushed in the evening rush.”

They make it a block before the crush of people is so great they’re forced to stop. JJ frowns, “Strange. Usually it’s only ever this bad once the market closes. Hmm.” JJ turns on his heel, prodding them back up the street. “Come on you two.”

“What is it?” asked Victor, tucking his computer under an arm. Yuuri tries seeing what the fuss is, but all he sees is an unending crowd, people smashed together shoulder to shoulder.

“Probably nothing,” said JJ, “But maybe something? Feels like we’re being herded. Maybe a checkpoint? No point in staying to find out.”

Yuuri catches sight of a line of military police preventing people from leaving through side streets and points it out. JJ nods, “Good eye, little man. This way then.” He steers them across the street at a brisk pace, not fast enough to draw attention to them.

Yuuri holds onto JJ, terrified of losing him in the crowd when he can barely tell one person apart from another. Victor grabs his shoulder, “Keep up for fuck’s sake!”

“You know,” gasped Yuuri as JJ lead them closer to the back of the crowd where officers were more scarce, “You didn’t used to curse so much.” The line of MP was slowly funneling everyone to the checkpoint,  the officers were easily distinguished by their olive green uniforms and chrome helmets. JJ abruptly stopped and Yuuri bumped into him.

“Too late,” muttered JJ just as an amplified voice called over the crowd.

“This is a routine checkpoint! Make sure to have your bags and personal items ready for inspection!”

“Not identification?” asked Victor, looking at JJ.

“No one has papers here, well... only a few minority. Why the hell are they doing this?” JJ rubbed his neck, frowning.

Victor spotted an area that had only two police officers guarding it, the MP were stretched thin to control such a big crowd. “Can we squeeze by through those two?” Victor directed JJ’s gaze.

JJ cocked his head, “Not by ourselves no. But... maybe with everyone else’s help? Victor stay here, you’re the most vulnerable, Yuuri follow me.”

Victor followed behind them at a distance and watched as JJ and Yuuri engaged the two MPs in some sort of elaborate conversation.

“What’s going on over there?” a tall woman, taller than Victor, with cherry red wings followed Victor’s gaze.

Victor shrugged, “Don’t know. But I bet they’re trying to get through.”

The woman huffed, “Distraction? Two MPs aren’t a big deal, the problem’s the rest of that line watching.”

Victor looked to where the rest of the officers were lined up, holding back the crowds with prods and shields. He shivered involuntarily.

“Been prodded before, sweetheart?” asked the woman kindly.

“Mm,” said Victor, staring intently at whatever JJ and Yuuri were doing. One of the officers waded into the crowd, threatening them with the prod. Victor started walking towards JJ and Yuuri, only vaguely aware of the red-winged woman following him. Victor looked at the MP who’d walked into the crowd screaming at an avian with drab blue wings, he also noticed that the crowd was shifting, like a ripple, they were moving towards the single officer now trying to hold the line. JJ waved to Victor and motioned for him to hurry. Victor kept his eyes forward as he broke into a run.

That was all it took, the crowd was now a mob and Victor was caught up in the middle of it. Victor slogged through the mess, the distant bullhorn crack of air nets was sharp in his ears. The mob trampled through the outdoor market, tearing through the stalls and neat rows of shops. Victor had elbows shoved into his stomach and wings slapped his face. He clutched his computer tightly as he ran. There was no sign of either Yuuri or JJ, Victor wanted to panic, but he forced it down, they’d be fine. They had been ahead of the mob. Someone yanked Victor down, his knees scraped the asphalt and someone kicked his ribs. He snapped his wings out and managed to stumble upright, people were screaming and yelling. Victor ran until his legs burned and his breath came in painful gasps. Finally the crowd was thinning out and Victor had a chance to make a true sprint for the Leroy’s place. It was dark by the time he was knocking on the door.

Nathalie yanked the door open and hustled him inside.

Victor was gasping, “I couldn’t- Where’s- It was madness-“

“Shush, come sit down. You’re the last to arrive,” Nathalie kept her hand on Victor’s back, guiding him forward, “Yuuri arrived not two minutes ago. JJ got here before Yuuri. It’s fine.” They entered the living room. Yuuri leapt to his feet a split eyebrow neatly glued shut, he looked relieved. JJ had a bruise smeared across his jaw. Izzy was holding JJ’s hand and looking pale.

Victor sat down on one of the armchairs and flinched when Nathalie touched his face with a wipe.

“Don’t move.” she scowled.

Victor touched his face and was surprised to find blood, “I couldn’t find anyone. Sorry.”

“Sorry?!” JJ waved the apology away, “Don’t be silly. I’m frankly surprised you weren’t trampled.”

Victor nodded and Nathalie held his chin so Victor wouldn’t move, he closed his eyes and when he opened them again both JJ and Yuuri were gone, only Yuuri’s scarf still remained on the couch. It looked ruined.

...

Yuuri’s entire body was a giant bruise, he held the pillow over his face, trying to force himself to sleep. He drifted, too tired to sleep and too wired to do anything more than just lie there like a useless lump.

“Is that how you actually sleep?” The door to the room opened and shut.

“Sorry.” Yuuri pulled the pillow off as Victor threw himself into his own bed.

“For what? Oh God I feel awful, everything hurts.”

“For leaving you behind. I tried to... I’m sorry.” Yuuri covered his face in his hands.

“Oh stop. There was nothing you could have done. It was run or be trampled.” Victor groaned, it felt like he’d been in a fist fight with a heavy weight. There was a moment of silence.

“You know what’s stupidest? I’m more upset about my scarf than anything else. What a waste. Did your computer survive?”

“It did survive.” Victor threaded his fingers behind his head. “At least neither of us are dead.”

There was a strange sound from Yuuri, it might have been a strangled laugh, but Victor wasn’t sure.  “I wouldn’t have gone back if something had happened to you.”

That was strange. “Why not? You’d rather cripple the camp by depriving them of a medic than face them?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I’d be afraid of them. Otabek, Lilia, even Mila.”

Victor craned his head, but the absolute dark of the room prevented him from seeing Yuuri. “Don’t be ridiculous. They all like you, plus you’re useful.”

Yuuri remained silent and Victor eventually drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh victor and yuuri were suppose to be out of the slums by this chapter. lmao


	11. On roads less travelled

Victor woke up feeling grumpy and battered. That’s right, the riot, he shifted and that brought on a dull ache. He sat up and pushed his sleeves up, it was like he’d gotten his body painted by someone who was particularly enthusiastic about purple watercolors.

“You awake?”

Yuuri didn’t respond, didn’t even shift. Victor thought about being mean, but his arms hurt too much to sling a pillow with much force. He slid out of bed and slammed the bathroom door closed instead.

The hot shower helped, but not much, he limped back into the room. Yuuri was awake, barely hanging onto consciousness by the scrape of his fingers. He looked a disaster, his cut eyebrow had swelled and his neck looked scraped too.

He mumbled something and waved at his bag hanging off the one chair in the room. He was squinting at Victor under heavily lidded eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Pills,” rasped Yuuri again, “Bag. Pain. Two.”

Victor wanted to laugh, he looked in the medic bag and held up one of the bundles, “Can I open this?”

Yuuri stumbled out of the bed and snatched the bundle out of Victor’s hands, muttering. He ripped it open and dumped it onto the bed. He pulled out an amber bottle. “Two. Six hours. Water.” He slapped it into Victor’s hand and burrowed back under his blankets.

“Did you say to take two of these every hour?” asked Victor loudly.

“Swear to _God!”_ snarled Yuuri, his voice muffled by blankets and still sleep slurred.

Yikes. Victor swallowed the giggle. He placed a hand on the door to the bathroom.

“I’m serious!” Yuuri was sitting up again, looking furious.

“Calm down, I was only joking.”

Yuuri’s voice was flat. “I didn’t know you were capable.” And promptly collapsed back into bed.

“Rude,” said Victor, and then added, “you should know that it’s not just humans that crack jokes. Avians also have a sense of humor,” just because he could.

Yuuri glared at Victor and rolled out of bed, tugging his sneakers on before stumbling to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Breakfast. You’re obviously going to keep bothering me until I get up so there’s no point in trying to sleep. What kind of monster gets up before nine,” muttered Yuuri to himself as he yanked the room’s door open.

“Probably ones who get locked up in cages and experimented on,” said Victor, again because he could.

“Go fuck yourself,” said Yuuri whose vocabulary was still that of a high schooler before 10am.

Before Victor could respond Yuuri had left. Victor opened the door again and yelled to Yuuri’s retreating back, “I will! Just give me an hour!”

Yuuri turned around, blushing furiously, “An hour? You look like a five-minute man!”

They were yelling into a hallway whose walls were definitely not sound proofed. Surely the Leroys and Yang could hear them bickering. Victor couldn’t bring himself to care.

Victor’s lip curled, “Don’t you wish you knew.”

Yuuri laughed, sharp and abrasive, “You’ve forgotten that I used to be a horrible person, haven’t you? Here’s a reminder: you’re not as impressive as you’d like me to think.”

Victor felt himself flush, damn it, he _had_ forgotten. He’d been stripped upon being admitted to the avian detention center. “Enjoy the view?” he snarled, stepping out to the hallway.

A few doors down JJ stuck his head out, looking sleep tousled, “Hey guys, can you keep it down? It’s still super early. . . Thanks. . . ” The door closed.

Victor retreated into the room and balled his fists, pressing them into his eyes. They shouldn’t have argued, who even started it? Was he supposed to apologize or was Yuuri? Victor didn’t know, the conversation just seemed to escalate when it should have been easy to stop. Key word: _should_. Victor walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror.

Frustration bubbled high making him grimace at the reflection, “Come on, you used to do this all the time. Smile. Just smile and nod. You’ve had worse insults thrown at you.” But it wasn’t easy, not anymore. Victor wasn’t trying to hide he was an avian, Yuuri was no longer his captor and had actually turned out to be an asset to the avian cause. Victor should have welcomed that with open arms. Was he still resentful about being a guinea pig and tortured? Victor shuddered, pushing those memories away: Yes, he was still angry about that, but not towards Yuuri. So what was it? Why did every interaction have to escalate into a fucking volcanic explosion? Victor considered his reflection, turning to look at himself at one angle and then another. For a moment he tucked his wings in tightly, just like before. The only evidence left was the large silvery scales that peppered his shoulders and down to his elbows.

_Competition._

Victor exhaled in relief, managing a shallow smile. So that’s what it was. Victor knew he was competitive, knew it since he was five and broke a tooth trying to climb a fence in a race against a friend. What he hadn’t realized was that Yuuri was also competitive, _that’s_ why they constantly butted heads.

Victor released his wings and they hung more comfortably over his shoulders. So: competitive nature plus the mess of their situations meant primordial chicken soup for hatred. But that was done; Victor told his reflection, “I don’t hate Yuuri. _You_ don’t hate Yuuri.” Because it was one thing to hate him when he’d been part of the avian detention center, it was another to hate him now. When logically, Victor knew that Yuuri had decided to work at that prison out of some misguided and fucked up sense of _duty_ or whatever to help. It _was_ whatever, and Victor did _not_ hate Yuuri.

Victor gave himself a wry smile. Victor was just still working through things; he’d had to hide everything for a long time and now that he didn’t have to? It was a little too easy to let his vicious side show, especially with a prime target like Yuuri. . . Still. . . . he could probably stop escalating things. Maybe.

...

Yuuri spent the morning cooking breakfast, refusing help from either JJ or Izzy. But when Izzy invited him into the sound studio Yuuri followed her, also accepting a mug of honeyed tea from her.

It turned out that Izzy was charming on the radio, even if it was 7am when the sun wasn’t high enough to break through the tall skyscraper buildings of the slums. Yuuri clutched his mug of tea and let Isabella Yang’s voice soothe him into something more than grudgingly awake. Between bouts of songs she talked about the weather, recent gang skirmishes, adverts from local shops, the current political climate in Met-Sig, and she also talked about the riot yesterday, chalking it up to being hemmed in on all sides by the MP. She admonished the police while gently rebuking anyone who’d thought that rioting was a good idea. Yuuri got himself some coffee while she talked about that. She also announced that she had an exclusive story about the escaped avians from the detention center. “Partly to keep everyone in suspense and partly to protect my sources, this story will be aired in in two days. Stay tuned for prerecorded snippets from your faaavorite fiancé later today!”

She tore the headphones off, flipped the transmission switch and sighed happily.  She snagged Yuuri’s arm as they walked out of the room. “I think that went well! Let’s get lunch, it’s pretty late so maybe Victor and JJ are already eating. You two sure gave us quite the wake up this morning though!”

“Sorry,” stammered Yuuri, he wanted to melt into a puddle, “I... just...”

Izzy laughed, “It’s okay. You two _are_ in a stressful situation, so I guess I can forgive you, especially since you two are guests.”

Yuuri didn’t think he was in a stressful situation, it was awkward if anything. “Oh good,” said Yuuri, “Not _good_. But I’m glad you understand. I feel awful about it.”

Izzy laughed and Yuuri felt some of his worry ease away, when was the last time he changed the anxiety patch? Shit. He probably had to change it soon.

...

Lunch was less tense than Victor feared it would be.

“So this morning, what was all that yelling about?” asked Izzy, “I tried to eavesdrop, but JJ didn’t let me.”

Victor smiled widely, “Oh that!”

“Victor was about to OD on a bottle of pain pills,” said Yuuri wearily.

“I was _not_ ,” growled Victor, “I told you I was joking!”

Yuuri snapped his gaze to Victor and then back to his plate, he very visibly took a giant drink of juice before answering, “Yes. I know that _now._ Fat lot of help it does.”

Victor had the perfect retort, he was still smarting from their argument that morning. However, he’d already promised himself not to be goaded by whatever stupid thing Yuuri said. “Miss Izzy please pass me the peanut butter? I haven’t had any in ages.”

Izzy was startled out of whatever reverie she was currently in, “Oh! Of course.”

“Thank you,” said Victor, more forceful than necessary.

Yuuri muttered something under his breath.

Victor turned a dazzling smile on Yuuri, “What was that? You were mumbling.”

“I _said_ pass me the juice,” said Yuuri, almost not snarling.

“Of course you did,” said Victor.

“Stop smiling,” Yuuri was scowling.

Victor poured the rest of the juice into his own glass, “Oh no, the juice is all gone. Tough luck Yuuri.”

“Oh would you look at the time,” said JJ loudly, standing up, “I’ve really go to go. . . work. And you go on air in half an hour again, right Izzy?”

Izzy sighed, “I guess so. You two are in charge of clean up.” Izzy and JJ left their plates on the table.

Yuuri let his head thump onto the table and Victor was inclined to agree. Not out loud though. Yuuri dragged his head up and poured himself some water, Victor felt a twinge of embarrassment about stealing the rest of the juice.

“Sorry,” said Yuuri, “About what I said earlier. It was...”

“Intrusive and way out of line,” said Victor.

“Yes. . . that.” Yuuri polished off the water and sunk low into his seat, “And creepy.”

“That it was,” sighed Victor, “But you must have studied in a hospital, right? I assume you’ve seen more people naked than you care to remember.”

Yuuri took on a faraway look, “Only for a year, but that’s enough to desensitize anyone.”

Something occurred to Victor. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know these plates need to be washed.” Yuuri stuck a last piece of bread into his mouth and stood up.

He idly stirred his coffee. “25?” guessed Victor.

“Almost 24.”

“My God,” said Victor, “You must have been really young when you started school.”

“What does it matter?” Yuuri quickly gathered the plates and rushed them into the kitchen.

Victor steeled himself and gathered the rest of the plates, he headed into the kitchen. “It means you’re competitive.” He placed the dirty plates down and went back for the food they had left uneaten. He was placing it in the fridge when Yuuri said, “What do you mean competitive?”

“Oh you know,” said Victor, waving around the jam knife before putting it into the sink and going back to put the jam jar into the fridge.

“No, I don’t.”

“You went to school for medical research, that’s competitive.”

“I guess so?”

“ _You’re_ competitive,” repeated Victor, jabbing at Yuuri with a long finger.

Yuuri actually laughed at him, “No. I am not.”

“Are too,” said Victor.

“Go back to bed, you’re hallucinating.”

So easy to just jump to the next bit, to say something more cutting, something smarter, just to prove he could. Victor sighed, “See? That’s the problem. You wouldn’t know when to stop even if it killed you.”

“Not for lack of trying,” muttered Yuuri, pointedly him and Victor slammed his fist onto the counter. Yuuri flinched.

“Exactly my point! You just _have_ to have the last word, why?”

Yuuri blinked, “I... don’t know? But that’s not the point, I’m telling you that I’m not competitive, I just... see a goal and work hard at it.”

“Ambitious then, whatever.” Victor waved away the distinction, “You still don’t know when to shut up.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, closed it, and then said. “Shit. I think you’re right.”

Victor continued scrubbing dishes next to Yuuri, feeling smug.

....

After her afternoon show, Izzy took Victor to a small sitting room and offered him alcohol, “Soooo Victor, I’d like to know how it is you all escaped from that place.” She poured him a drink from an amber bottle. Victor didn’t know what Yuuri and JJ did while he and Izzy talked about the escape from the prison, but he knew it wasn’t as fun as this. The alcohol that Izzy procured was some sort of delicious fermented honey liquor that was so decadent Victor had to spend half an hour talking about it before he could be convinced to move on.

The hard liquor lay pleasantly heavy on his tongue and throat, even after the liter bottle was empty. Victor and Izzy stumbled out of the sitting room, hanging off one another. Victor isn’t sure how he’s hanging from Izzy since he’s taller, but he is. Izzy wobbled, “I have to make sure my notes are legible.”

“But...” says Victor, leaning against a wall, “It’s like. . . lunch time, no wait. It’s dinner now, right? We need food.” Victor burped.

Izzy shakes her head, “No no no.” She grins, “I couldn’t possibly. Good bye. Get out of my face.” She stumbles away, clutching the small recorder that has immortalized her and Victor’s drunken afternoon and the reams of paper notes with her neat handwriting. _Paper_. Who uses paper? A romantic; that’s who.  Victor’s a romantic. He might have said that out loud, but who knows?

He doesn’t even notice Yuuri is there until he feels a prod to his shoulder. JJ is on his other side, scowling, holding his arm. “Where’s my Izzy?”

Victor shrugs, “She said good bye and then she left. She’s pretty, if I was straight I’d date her.”

“Don’t listen to him JJ, he’s drunk.”

Victor looks at JJ. He looks annoyed. “He’s not just drunk, He’s hammered. Get him into bed.”

Victor sways, “Should eat first or else I’ll puke later. I’ll puke somewhere inconvenient,” he threatens. Victor isn’t sure who he’s threatening, but he is.

Somehow Victor finds himself sitting in front of a plate of rice and chicken, there’s a fork in his hand and rice in his mouth. Oh yeah, he’s drunk. He quickly finishes the food, and asks for water, lots of water.

“So you’re back,” says Yuuri.

Victor is too tired to fight, the fun part of being drunk was over and now he felt almost too heavy to move. “No fighting. Truce.”

Yuuri snorts, “Okay.”

Victor finds himself in bed, not tucked in, more like haphazardly thrown face down onto the bed with a blanket flung over his shoulders. “I _said_ truce,” complains Victor into the darkened room, but no one answers. Victor huffs and remembers the warm honey coating his mouth, he’d never had alcohol that warmed the nape of his neck, his shoulders. That was good stuff. He wonders if he can get himself another bottle, no sharing either.

...

Victor doesn’t consider himself to be a bad person, but obviously he is mistaken. He’s a bad, horrible person and he’s being punished for it; he’s got a raging headache, but at least he’s not feeling sick. Small mercies. Victor remembers the taste of the alcohol, but only vaguely. He feels the hot press of a knife on his back and he jerks away, lunges out of bed, scrambling with the blanket tangled in a wing. He beats out, connecting with something hard and there’s a flash of pain in his wing, _that_ wakes him up the rest of the way.

“Shit!” Victor feels his heart beating out of his chest, the blanket is tangled up around his leg and a wing, goddamn how did that happen?

“Are you okay?” Yuuri is in his bed, holding an arm out, his eyes are wide. He lowers his arm and rubs it when Victor turns to look at him.

“Fine,” says Victor, “just drunk. Probably.”

“Oh.”

Victor untangles the stupid blanket from his leg and it slithers off his wing. “Don’t worry.” He sits on his bed and tries to think of something distracting.

“I never worry about you,” says Yuuri and Victor wants to scream.

“No,” says Victor instead, “Of course not. I’m just a dirty avian.”

“Oh no,” reassures Yuuri, “Not because of that. It’s because you’re an asshole and you pretend to be so perfect.”

That stops Victor cold. He laughs out of pure surprise, he has nothing to say to that, so he defaults to, “Fuck you.”

Yuuri sighs and lies back down, still rubbing his arm.

“Did I hit you?”

Yuuri pauses and he shifts, “It’s fine. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No, I didn’t. Hey, how far is my reach?”

“What?”

“Pay attention, my wingspan. Obviously, I’ve never taken a ruler to myself.” Fuck, Victor closes his eyes even as Yuuri speaks.

“Oh haven’t you?” sneers Yuuri and immediately covers his mouth,” Sorry! It just-”

“Of course I have,” says Victor, “Anyone who pretends not to have measured their own dick is a filthy liar.” It’s the only response that won’t lead to a real argument and Victor is doing his best to be a fucking adult. Grown up. That’s what life is, swallowing the perfect rejoinder to maintain peace. Yup. That’s totally what Victor is; an adult, full grown, definitely not- Oh to hell. “What, you haven’t? Or you _can’t_?”

The conversation quickly dissolves into shouting again until JJ yanks their door open and tells them to shut the hell up. “I can’t believe you two manage to get anything done.” He slams the door closed.

Victor doesn’t feel embarrassed, he feels tired again, and hung over. Yelling sure does take it out of you. He drops face down into the bed, folding the blanket under his stomach so his back is straight. He fluffs his wings out. It’s oppressively quiet in the room.

...

They’re bundled up into a truck right after breakfast, Izzy is there, exchanging notes with a woman browner than Yuuri. If she had green hair she’d be a tree. Izzy gives Yuuri a small package and says, “For when you get back. It’s how I’ll know you two are safe. Also this, I had a friend fix it,” it’s an opaque crinkling cellophane package. Yuuri hugs her tightly and everyone pretends to not see Yuuri’s wet eyes. He quickly crawls into the hidden compartment of the truck and Victor gives Izzy a half-hearted hug, quickly pulling away. “Thank you for everything,” says Victor, “I honestly don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Izzy laughs and hands him a small, tightly packed bag, “Here. Something I _know_ you’ll like. What you’ve told me... I know it wasn’t easy.”

Victor studies his nails, “No. It’s not.”

Izzy looks up at him, bright eyes perceptive. “He... was there, right?” She’s talking so quietly that even Victor has trouble hearing her. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to know. But... the things you left out, plus the way you look at Yuuri sometimes. It’s quite obvious he was involved. Plus those scars on his face are just about the right size for a light arc nozzle. You said that researcher died, but he didn’t, did he? He just... changed allegiances.”

“I. . . We’re giving him the benefit of the doubt.” says Victor at last, “He’s not... He’s trying,” amends Victor.

“Yes, he is.” Izzy considers Victor’s face, “You know... if you ever decide that hamming it up with rebels isn’t your speed, I’m sure there’s a need for lawyers here. At least need for someone with your skills.” Victor’s mouth twists and Izzy laughs, “Think about it.”

“Okay, “says Victor, “If things don’t work out back at camp, I’ll swing by. Thank you.”

“I’m serious,” says Izzy, frowning as Victor crawls into the hidden compartment, she takes advantage of that by pinching the back of Victor’s thigh, near where knee and thigh meet, “Listening now?”

Victor yelps and hits his head, “ _Yes, listening, thank you._ ”

“And no fighting, seriously. Not even a peep.”

Victor crosses his arms and pulls his legs out of Izzy’s reach, neither he nor Yuuri say anything.

Izzy closes the compartment and they’re shrouded in darkness.

....

Victor blindly roots around the bag and palms the cool surface of a bottle, he swears in Russian and quickly hides the bottle back in its swaddling. He feels the ghost of warmth on his neck and in his face and grins.

Yuuri is making crinkling noises as he opens the cellophane package and gasps, “My scarf!” He squeals and plants his face into the soft material. It makes Victor laugh which he immediately stops, worried that it would start another argument. But Yuuri doesn’t surface from his scarf ecstasy, but his shoulders do shake.

This is _too_ much. “Are you crying?” asks Victor, incredulous. And he’s even more gob smacked when Yuuri nods frantically, still face first in his scarf. What the hell, he fishes the packed bottle out of the bag and methodically begins unwrapping it.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri’s voice is snotty and wet.

“Celebrating we’re not dead,” says Victor.

“Is that alcohol?”

“Alcohol!” Victor curls around the bottle, “How dare you, you fucking ingrate. This _isn’t_ just alcohol.” He manages to pop the seal and takes a small sip, he grins as the coil of heat fills his throat and mouth. “You can have some if you swear on your mother not to _breathe_ a word of this to anyone that it exists.” Victor tips his head back and enjoys the lingering taste.

Yuuri wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, looking puzzled, “I’ll bite. I mean drink. Just a sip.”

Victor hands over the bottle like it’s his first and only child, which Yuuri almost comments on. But he restrains himself and carefully takes a swig. He almost coughs in surprise. It burns a trail down his chest as he hands the bottle back, he rubs his face, “I. . . I mean. . . That’s. . . Wow.”

“I know,” says Victor fervently, lovingly rewrapping the bottle, “If anything happens to this, I’ll die.”

Yuuri snorts, which draws a glare from Victor. “What. Like you weren’t just crying into your scarf two minutes ago.”

“I kind of regret drinking from that bottle,” says Yuuri, his mouth feels sticky and he wants to rub it back to normal, “God only knows what kinds of things you’re going to do to it at night. Besides, I cry all the time, that’s not new.” _Shit,_ Yuuri rubs his face.

“Is that so?” Victor holding the backpack to his stomach like it’s made of sugar glass, “Who knew.”

Yuuri wants to smack himself, so naturally he winds the scarf around his neck and hides in the soft material. Victor might be muttering under his breath but Yuuri ignores it, even though he’s itching to reply.

...

Judging by how much his butt hurts Victor figures that they’ve been in the cramped compartment for longer than an hour, maybe two hours if he’s feeling dramatic. Yuuri is asleep and snoring quietly, and the only reason Victor wakes up is because the truck lurches. Apparently Yuuri has no qualms about their ride stopping far too early.

The sound of boots on asphalt and clipped commands makes Victor’s heart speed up, soldiers. He lurches over to where Yuuri is snoring and shakes him awake, pressing his hands over Yuuri’s face before he can protest and hauls him upright. “Quiet!” he says, clipped voice. Calm. Yuuri relaxes and cautiously peels Victor’s hands from his face that’s currently covered by the scarf. Without being asked, Victor points to his ear and then outside. Yuuri tries to shuffle to look but Victor holds him by the shoulders shaking his head in an emphatic _No!_ and points to his ears. Yuuri closes his eyes and then after a few seconds opens them again, looking panicked.

The truck stops completely and they both freeze. The driver’s side door opens and Yuuri presses his own hand against his face. Victor clamps his wings in so tightly they ache, he’s not used to that pressure anymore. Maybe if he slides on his jacket so it just _looks_ accidentally ripped... The doors to the top compartment open, Victor doesn’t know what their driver is actually hauling besides two fugitives, but he’d been shivering the entire time, most likely perishables. Yuuri tugs on Victor’s sleeve and points, through the slats in their hidden compartment that let air in, they can see a squat shape making the rounds of the truck, a dog. A sniffing dog.

Victor puts his head on his knees, breathes slowly. He feels a hand on his shoulder and Victor ignores it, ignores Yuuri. The hatch to the compartment above them closes, the woman spends a minute or more just _standing_ with the checkpoint soldiers, then she gets in the cab and the door closes.

Victor looks up, feeling woozy. Yuuri’s hand falls away as the truck starts up again and they lurch into motion. Neither of them dare breathe until they go around a particularly long bend in the road.

Victor edges to the far side of the compartment and peers through the slats: forest, mountains. No cities, no towns, even the road looks a little worn, they must be getting close.

The sun is beyond the zenith when the asphalt turns to dirt and the truck is pulling to the side of the road. A few moments later the woman slides the door open and Victor scrambles out, Yuuri quickly follows.

“How did you trick the dog,” demands Victor, “I saw the dog. It was a sniffer! How?”

The woman raises and eyebrow and starts doing sign language. _Oh_.

“I’m a bit rusty,” says Victor but he tries anyway. [So how did you do it?] Hah! He beams at the woman.

The woman grins and signs so fast that Victor has to beg her to slow down. [ My name is Catherine]. She fingerspells her name first and then does her personal sign, [Cat-Smile].

Oops, of course, names first. Victor wracks his brain and slowly fingerspells his own.

The woman grins, and just signs the ‘V’ followed by the sign for win. A pun.

[Puns are the worst,] he says and the woman grins even wider. [How’d you do it? Spill]

[Easy. The frame of the truck is all steel beams that’re hollow. I stuffed them full of my own special mix of dog-deterrent meat.]

[Which is?]

[Let’s just say that dogs react to only avians, but not any other mammal, all I had to do was overwhelm your scent.] The woman grins unpleasantly and Victor feels as if he’s still in the truck and his body is still flying down the highway at 70 miles an hour.

[Okay. Thank you.]

“Thank you,” says Yuuri cheerfully and the woman nods once. She points to the forest and signs at Victor again. “What did she say?”

“There’s a deer trail. Come on.”

They crash through the forest blindly until Victor stumbles upon it and waits for Yuuri.

“So what did the lady tell you that made you look all sick to your stomach.”

Victor wonders if he might have understood the woman wrong, it’s possible. But that smile, predatory and remorseless. “From what I understood she hinted that she stuffed the hollow steel frame bars with dead meat.”

Yuuri gives him a look and says softly, “Of course it’s dead, otherwise-”

Victor has the temptation to punt his wings out so he hits Yuuri with them. The desire withers and he answers civilly enough. “You know what I meant. Stop trying to turn this into an argument. And you’re not grossed out by that? Creeped out?”

“Uhm, a little? I’m still trying not to panic about those soldiers though, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” The game trail is easy to follow, but roundabout and it’s getting on Victor’s nerves.

“I hate this forest,” says Victor, “The stupid humidity, and the _bugs_...”

“You’re just making it worse for yourself by complaining.”

“There’s nothing else to _do_ ,” said Victor, he gazed critically at the space between trees. “Hm.” He’d done it before, he just had to be a little more careful about it now. He loosened his wings, “Go on ahead. I’m going to try something.”

Victor stretched his wings, crouched, and- oh this was _amazing_. He flew straight for a tree, tucked his legs underneath himself and spring-boarded higher. His shoulders and torso were already burning; his body wasn’t accustomed to this. He scooped air into his wings and aimed for a large-ish branch. He hugged the tree trunk to himself and balanced precariously. Yuuri looked small from here, his face was turned up at him.

Victor looked around, but he couldn’t see very far, there were too many trees and hills for that, but it was still exhilarating, the ground was so far away. He jumped from the branch and coasted higher until the branches started scraping his wings from the proximity. He was breathing hard, but at least there were no more bugs in his face. Oh, this was _high_. He touched down on another branch, so thin that it bows under his weight and Victor falters. He jumps from the branch, tries a barrel roll that nearly sends him careening into a tree trunk and it’s great! Victor grins and bounces off a tree trunk, launching himself around.

He’s lost sight of the game trail so he hollers for Yuuri until he hears a reply. He lands in a cloud of pine needles, managing to keep his balance. He feels giddy, his heart is racing and it doesn’t even matter that the bugs are immediately back in full force.

“You watched,” says Victor as they start walking again.

“Yeah,” Yuuri’s voice is tentative, as if he’s walking on thin ice, “It looked fun.”

“Oh, are you over your fear of heights?” Victor flaps his wings to get rid of the bugs and it sort of works.

Yuuri shudders, “Not on your life. Did you manage to see anything? You went pretty high.”

“Not a thing, this cursed forest is too thick,” Victor swats at his arm and grins, “Not much of a view unless you want to hike up a hill?”

Yuuri looks at him curiously, “Ah, no.”

“What? I know I have sap on me- “

“Not that,” says Yuuri, “Just suddenly you looked younger, or at least not completely depressed- “

Victor takes a deep breath, “You’re just _trying_ to pick a fight right now, so I can’t even be mad.”

Yuuri grimaces, “I wasn’t. Besides, you asked.”

“Well I won’t make that mistake again.” Victor watches Yuuri visibly restrain himself from saying anything.

...

They walk until it’s almost too dark to see when something furry and white barrels into Victor, he goes down flailing, and the fluffy monster attacks Yuuri who goes down with a shout of pain. Victor gathers himself up, trembling.

“We thought you were dead! You fucking _morons!_ ”

Victor lowers himself back onto the loamy earth to regain his composure, he touches his backpack, but neither computer nor bottle of delicious wine seem to be broken.

“Yura,” groans Yuuri, rolling on the floor, “You scared the _shit_ out of me.”

Yuri calls Yuuri an unsavory word for coward which makes Yuuri laugh, "Katsuki, you're aware that Yura is an affectionate term, right?"

"I'm aware. But what else am I suppose to call you? I just heard Mila say that to you once so," he shrugged, "Oh! What about Yurio?"

Yuri shrugged, "I don't give a fuck, 's long as you  _stop_ calling me Yura in front of others. You embarrass yourself."

Victor gets up and shakes the dirt from his wings. Yuuri rolls to his feet and dusts himself off and allows Yurio to yank on the scarf hanging from Yuuri’s neck, “Where the _hell_ did you get this?”

“Drug money,” says Yuuri and Yuro scoffs.

“He’s serious,” chirps Victor, “He sold drugs to get that scarf.”

Yuri rolls his eyes as only a teenager can, including his head and shoulders in the motion. “Okay, whatever. Pricks.”

Yuuri gingerly prods him forward and Yuri walks into Victor, pushing him forward too. “Let’s go old man. I can’t _wait_ until everyone sees you. Holy shit! They’re going to be excited. Now stop lying, how did you _really_ get that scarf, it felt expensive.”

“We’re not lying,” insisted Victor, leaning back against the push of Yurio’s hands, “Tell him what you sold.”

“Cocaine,” deadpans Yuuri and Yurio throws Victor a dirty glare, shoving him hard. Victor barely manages to keep his balance.

“Insulin!” says Victor, “He sold two vials of insulin!”

“Uh-huh,” says Yurio, still unconvinced, “Where are your glasses Katsuki?”

“I lost them.” Yuuri’s voice turns mournful.

“He’s even _more_ useless,” quips Victor, and Yuuri glares at him. Victor _thinks_ Yuuri glares at him, it’s getting too dark to see even the ground.

“You called truce!” said Yuuri, pointing in his vague direction.

“I said that when I was drunk,” Victor shrugs the accusation away, “Truce has expired.”

“Shut up, both of you. I’d forgotten how annoying you two can get.” Yurio slaps Yuuri’s arm and he winces with real pain. “Maybe you two should have stayed dead.”

Victor pretends to be offended, “So cynical for being so young! You don’t even have any peach fuzz.” He rubs the back of his hand on Yura’s cheek and yep, smooth as a nectarine, no peach fuzz in sight.

“Fuck you!” Yurio punches him hard, right where he’d gotten an elbow in his back and Victor sees stars.

“Pretty baby,” coos Victor in revenge, his back feels hot with pain, “No wonder Otabek’s so protective.”

Yuri lunges forward and is held back by Yuuri. “You see?” asks Yuuri mournfully, “You now see what I’ve had to deal with, Yura.”

Yurio tries to lunge again and half-heartedly bats at Yuuri. He gives up and settles for insulting Victor’s sexual abilities.

 _Too easy_ , thinks Victor, his jaw twitching. But no. He’d promised himself to be more civil, and this time he just laughs at Yurio who’s glare is frankly spectacular.

Another guard joins them while walking into camp. Yura explains this guard is new and she came in yesterday with an avian daughter.

“Why’re _you_ here?” asks the new guard, looking at Yuuri.

Yuuri is saved from having to answer by Yurio, who says. “He’s finally doing the right thing. The _idiot._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3C
> 
> PS: Also, when ppl make yuuri to be shy and quiet and sensible I will forever point to the chihoko incident. thx kubo-sensei for validating my yuuri.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: After writing Yura 500 time I've made an executive decision that it annoys me. Yurio/Yuri it is. Only Yuuri will say Yura


	12. Click your heels together

No one was waiting at the gate except two guards with guns slung around their shoulders. It was late enough for everyone to be at dinner or bunking down for the night.

“Yuri! Wow! Katsuki and Victor too! We thought you two were dead.” One of the guards, a tall human leapt forward and ushered them inside, eyes wide. Yurio waved the guard away with an imperious flick of his hand that made Yuuri smile.

“He’s going to be a nightmare if he ever figures out he’s handsome,” whispered Victor.

“You’re the only one who’d want to see that,” responded Yuuri, wondering if Yuri could hear them.

Yuri paused once they were inside the gates, “Thank God you two didn’t call ahead, it would have been a goddamned riot.” He curled his lip in disdain, wings unfolding slightly.

“I’ve had enough of riots,” said Victor and Yuuri nodded fervently.

“Right, very funny,” said Yuri flatly. Victor gasped, pretending to be offended.

“How dare you! Yuuri tell him!” Victor nudged Yuuri’s arm and he winced. “Oh, of course! You see Yurio, we have _proof._ ”

Victor grinned and shamelessly yanked his shirt up, revealing the splashes of purple and green across his ribs and stomach. Yuri’s mouth fell open.

“What the fuck?!” He shoved Victor back, “What did you _do?!_ ”

“Nothing!” said Victor, “It was wrong place, wrong time!”

“Riot police penned a large crowd in and everyone panicked,” explained Yuuri.

“No. I don’t believe it,” Yurio crossed his arms, still glaring at Victor and then at Yuuri, “You two wouldn’t do something so cool as survive a riot!”

Victor held his hands out, “Well we did. Do you think Sara or Lilia are in their offices? We should tell them we’re alive. Oh gosh,” Victor yawned widely, “And then I’m going straight to bed.”

“Forget that, I can do that later! Tell me about the riot first,” demanded Yurio.

“Which part?” asked Yuuri, “The part where we slipped by riot police or where we destroyed an entire outdoor market.”

“You’re lying,” accused Yurio, throwing an elbow, “You’re lying to me and I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Oh! Tell him about the giant rats you fought off,” said Victor excitedly.

Yurio pounced on Yuuri, almost dragging him to the floor. “I hate you! I hate you both so much! How dare you leave me behind and have _fun_ while I worry- Argh!”

“Yura _please_ ,” Yuuri tripped and they collapsed on the floor in a heap, “Victor, help!”

“I’d love to, but my hands are full.” Victor wrapped both arms around his backpack, and watched Yurio roll Yuuri on the ground before letting Yuuri back up.

“Raging assholes,” fumed Yuri, hands convulsing into fists, “I can’t believe we were all grieving and you two-“ He devolved into a series of expressive hand gestures depicting their deaths.

...

Victor expected Yuuri to run away as soon as the clinic was in sight, but they all stood in front of the building without moving, Yuuri just gnawing on his finger.

“What’s going on, Katsuki?” Yurio pushed him forward, “Leave.”

“He’s going to be so angry.”

“You’re delusional, Celestino is going to be excited that you’re alive.” Victor made a shooing motion towards the door.

Yuuri mumbled something under his breath, but then said, “You’ll be sorry when I don’t go to breakfast tomorrow. Or ever again.”

Victor strode forward and opened the door, “I’ll mourn, but move on with my life. Now get in there so I can go to sleep.”

Yuuri still looks doubtful of stepping inside, “But when I die who will you argue with? You’ll regret this when no one else lets you scream at them.”

Yurio snorted and Victor swallowed his laughter too. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll suffer, and it will definitely be your fault, but I’ll survive.”

“You think I’m joking, but Ciao Ciao’s about to tear me a new one, and you think this is hilarious.” Yuuri edged inside, looking like a deer searching the bushes for a wolf. The clinic was miraculously empty of both patients or Ciao Ciao.

“Look. It’s empty, lucky you!” Victor shoved Yuuri inside and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

Yuuri is a coward. Everyone he’s ever held in esteem has informed him of this and so he has no qualms about slipping his muddy sneakers off and creeping up the stairs. There’s a terrifying moment when a step creaks like a ghoul and Celestino’s chain-saw snore falters. He takes another step and the stairs creak _again_ , Celestino grunts and Yuuri hears him getting up. He gulps in air and shuffles back down the stairs, hiding in the dark like a moron or an axe murderer. Ciao Ciao’s going to find him sneaking around, carrying his muddy shoes, like an idiot, and lose his mind.

Ciao Ciao flicks on the hallway light upstairs and Yuuri presses himself into the darkness, willing Ciao Ciao back to bed. It must work because Celestino shuffles around for a few seconds and then his bedroom door closes again.

....

They were walking towards the dormitories and Yuri kept looking up at him.

“Do I have something in my hair?” Victor glanced down, amused.

Yuri snorted and rolled his eyes, “No. It’s just- Never mind.”

 _The sparrow needs some honey to loosen his voice._ “Hey, you want in?”

“In what?” Yuri looked up at him suspiciously.

Victor opened his bag and unwrapped the bottle of honeyed liquor. He took a small sip and closed his eyes, tipping his head back as the alcohol ran hot and sweet down his throat. He smiled down at Yuri.

“Cheers, Swallowtail.” He held the bottle out and Yuri took it.

“Otabek will kill me.”

“You’re not supposed to get _drunk_. Trust me, just a taste will be enough.”

Yuri stopped walking and tipped the bottle back, taking a large mouthful. Victor winced.

“I _said_ taste.”

Yuri inhaled cold night air and exhaled fumes, his eyes watering and dropping his mouth open to pant into the cool night. Victor took the bottle before Yuri dropped it and took another sip.

With a sharp shake of his head, Yuri managed to keep his balance. “That was amazing.”

“Life changing,” agreed Victor. They resumed walking.

“Huh,” Yuri’s face changed, looking like he’d just gotten the answer to an unasked question, “Well... that’s good.”

Victor wondered what the question was, “Yes. in addition to this bit of heaven,” he hefted the bottle in his grip, “I also got a chance to do some flying, for fun. Do you remember fun, Yura?” Victor crooned as he passed the bottle back to Yuri.

There was a strange glint in his eyes, “Do you always ask stupid questions?”

“Only in the chance I get to receive stupid answers.” Victor laughs, “Come on, when was the last time you flew. For fun?”

“More of your idiotic questions.” said Yurio, “I barely learned two months ago.”

“Unconscionable!” Victor grabbed his elbow and dragged Yurio towards the edge of camp, “Your life has been utter garbage until you have fun while flying. When I flew for fun today, I almost didn’t come back.”

“We can’t just fuck off into the forest to fly. At night!” He tried dragging Victor back towards the dormitories.

“Yes we can,” Victor interrupted him, looking determined, “You are going to have _fun_ dammit. You are a kid!”

“Why does that fucking matter? Did _you_ fly around for fun as a kid?” Yurio dug his heels in, the stubborn brat. Victor grabbed his shoulders and was tempted to just pick him up.

“Now who’s asking stupid questions? I spent the majority of my life repurposing chest binders.” Victor felt Yurio’s posture soften and he propelled Yurio towards the edge of camp. Victor pressed his advantage, “You can’t imagine how weird it feels to just have my wings _out_.”

Yurio went completely limp, “You’re a pathetic and sad old man. You need help.”

“Probably,” said Victor, entirely too cheerful, making Yurio feel unnerved.  Yurio allowed himself to be steered out of camp. “But, Swallowtail!” Victor’s pout was reproachful, “This confirms that you’re obligated to have fun _for_ me.”

Yurio sneered at him, but Victor’s spine felt pleasantly soft and pliant so he tucks the bottle away and keeps guiding Yuri to an area that is cleared of trees.

Yurio growls, takes one look to see if anyone sees the. “If Beka finds out, I’m blaming it all on you!”

“Big words for someone who was worried for my and Yuuri’s well being,” said Victor lightly, tipping his head to look at Yurio.

“I’m not admitting to _anything_ ,” snarls Yurio, unfurling his wings

Victor tries to reassure him, patting his back, “Of course not. It’s all filthy speculation. No evidence.

“None!” says Yurio triumphantly, taking a running leap into the air.

.....

“You’re an idiot,” repeated Yurio for the twelfth time. Victor couldn’t respond, holding his nose and mouth as blood slowly dripped down his wrist.

Victor pointedly glanced at Yurio’s arm. Not once had the kid complained about the pain but Victor was pretty sure that scraping off large chunks of one’s flesh had to hurt.

Yurio opened the door and they were greeted by warm yellow light from a single floor lamp coming from the back room.

“Katsuki?” Yuri practically yelled.

Victor grabbed Yurio by the collar and pointed upstairs, “Sh!”

Yurio wandered into the back and Victor sat down at a bed, trying not to drip everywhere.

“I should have known.” Yuuri came into the front room, squinting at him. He flicked on the overhead lights, “Alright. What happened?” He pulled a kit from a cabinet.

“We went flying,” said Yurio, “It was Victor’s idea.”

Yuuri took in a shuddering breath, meant to hide a smile. “In the dark?” Victor nodded slowly.

“Alright. Here hold this under your face,” Yuuri gave him a basin and washed off the blood and dirt, wiping the rest away with a wad of gauze, “You’ll just need some stitches, lose any teeth?”

Victor shakes his head slowly, “No, but my whole face hurts,” he has to say this without moving his jaw more than necessary.

Yuuri’s fingers trace his jaw and cheeks, the bone above his eyes and above his nose, “It might bruise, but nothing is broken. You, on the other hand,” he turns towards Yurio, “Are going to need more than stitches. let me patch Victor up, and I’ll get some sponges for those _holes_ in your arm.”

The stitches pinch and Victor immediately goes into the bathroom to look at his chin. The pain medicine makes it easier to focus on something other than the spiky pain in his face. The stitches are small, but still visible.

“Was it worth it?” Yuuri was stuffing wet sponges into the holes of Yurio’s arms and then taping them in.

“Am I going to have a scar?” asked Victor.

Yuuri glanced at him, “Probably not, but there’s creams if you want some.”

Yurio looked a bit hazy and Victor realized Yuuri must have given him something to keep him quiet. “And you never said anything? I would love some for my back.” It wasn’t quite a snarl, but Victor knew it was far from polite.

Yuuri quickly finished with Yurio, wrapping one long bandage from shoulder to elbow to wrist and carefully around his palm. “Don’t you think I would have used it?” Yuuri tapped on his own face.

“Oh.”

“ _Oh,”_ mimicked Yuuri, tipping his head. “Lie down Yurio, nap time.”

“Don’t mock me! Ow.” Victor touched his mouth. It still stung.

Yuuri tossed his leftover supplies back into the bag, “Fine. A better topic would be how are you going to stop Otabek from _murdering_ you.”

Victor sat down at Yurio’s feet, “Why would he murder me.”

“Because you caused this to the person he loves the most!” Yuuri motions to bandaged arm.

Victor guiltily looked at Yurio, snoring in the bed. “But-“

“KATSUKI YUURI!”

Both Victor and Yuuri flinched.

Celestino stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hair swinging in a neat braid, looking furious.

“I’m gonna go.” Victor was out the door so fast Yuuri didn’t have time to squeak.

“I can explain,” said Yuuri, “I seriously can explain-“ The words died in his throat. Ciao Ciao stalked forward and Yuuri wrung his hands.

“You’re alive. And your first thought isn’t to wake me up, but to fuck around with Plisetsky and Nikiforov?”

“It’s just,” pleaded Yuuri, “They were injured and I thought-“

“Thought what exactly,” growled Ciao Ciao, “When you didn’t wake me up? Tell me exactly.”

“That it was late? At night?” Yuuri pressed his hand to his throat.

“You’re a piece of work,” said Ciao Ciao in disgust. He seized Yuuri’s arms and pulled him in for a hug. Yuuri squawked and for a second tried to pull away, but Ciao Ciao just gripped him tighter and Yuuri gives in to the hug.

“I heard yelling. Where’s the emergency?” Mila stomped downstairs, her hair scooped into a tiny bun.

Celestino finally pulled away, his face streaked with tears, “Look who dragged themselves home.”

Mila shrieked which made Yurio bolt upright. But Yuuri was too busy trying not to fall over, his left cheek feels wet where Celestino is hiding his face. And his head feels like it’s cracking open, leaking, leaking things too horrible to put into words, so he just allows himself to be hugged and grips tight to Celestino’s shoulder and the back of Mila’s sweater.

“I can’t believe this,” Yurio was sitting up, looking faintly scandalized at having to witness feelings, “I expect no better from Katsuki or... you know what? I’m not surprised at any of this. Go cry somewhere else.” Mila releases Yuuri, and approaches the bed, “You know what I think, Yuuri? I think our dear Yurio wants in on the hugging.” She croons and wriggles her fingers at him. Yurio snarls and shuffles back, “Don’t even _think_ about touching me!”

“Coffee,” declares Ciao Ciao, “I need coffee. Katsuki?”

Yuuri nods and feels his head continue to split open. It’s unpleasant, like a headache or an oncoming migraine, making Yuuri tremble. Yet it feels necessary when Mila crashes into him yanking him around as a shield against Yurio’s assault; Yuuri laughs and protects Mila as best he can against Yurio’s one-handed attack.

“Mila,” asks Yuuri mildly while being used as a human shield, “Aren’t you curious about Yura’s injuries?”

“It’s none of her business!” hisses Yurio, slapping haphazardly at Yuuri.

They somehow make it halfway into the downstairs kitchen before Yuuri tells her and Mila collapses against him, howling with laughter.

Yurio has fallen asleep at the table when the sun paints the kitchen golds and pinks. Mila stirs her third cup of coffee. “How long are you going to put off telling Lilia and Sara you’re alive?” Yuuri drops his eyes down, and mumbles, “Not forever.”

Mila grimaces, “Ciao Ciao, I’m taking this doofus down to central command. Hold down the fort while I’m away.”

“Bring him back in one piece,” says Celestino meaningfully enough that Yuuri feels the pinch of nausea. Mila keeps her arm around Yuuri’s neck and drags him out of the clinic.

“It’s going to be fine, Yuuri.” Mila pokes his cheek, “Stop looking so worried. But you can’t just come back from the dead without telling the bosses.”

“Yeah, alright,” said Yuuri, quietly “But don’t let me walk in there blind. Why was Ciao Ciao worried?” Yuuri allowed his shoulder to fit comfortably under Mila’s, “Please.”

Mila stops completely and gnaws on her lip, “Well... The soldiers on the train?”

“What about them.” God, it seemed like years ago when that happened, Yuuri’s heart sped up just thinking about that disaster. My God, they could have died! “Did anyone die? Besides the initial casualties?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Mila leaned against the wall, bracing herself up, “The soldiers had eyecams and they have video of you helping us.”

“Oh no,” Yuuri sinks down to his heels, “Oh no no no. And they think I went along willingly? I mean it’s the truth, how could they not see it? Shit! It’s ruined, it’s all-“

“Hey!” Mila gripped his shoulder tightly, “Stop talking! Stop thinking and look at me. Good. Now get up because this angle is weirding me out.”

Yuuri manages a weak smile that seems to encourage Mila.

“Now Listen up, Lilia knows how desperate you are to get home.” Mila shift uncomfortably at saying ‘home’ and Yuuri decides to ignore it. “So she’s going to do her damndest to get you there. Right? You believe in her right?”

“I believe you,” said Yuuri, deciding that if the eggs were going to break anyway, he might as well put them all in one basket, “And Ciao Ciao and that’s it.”

Mila pretended to scowl, “Don’t try to flatter me. My point is that it might not be as hopeless as you think, so you gotta get into central command and talk to Lilia and Sara. Okay?”

His hair felt grimy and he felt filthy, Yuuri didn’t want to go talk to Lilia like this, but Mila didn’t look like she was going to humor him. “Yeah, okay.” And Yuuri feels vulnerable enough to swing his arm onto Mila’s shoulder. He isn’t sure if he’s just being manipulative, which would be awful, or if he’s trying to absorb some of Mila’s flippant courage.

“Good. I’ll wait for you on the couch outside Lilia’s office to make sure you don’t run away.” Mila’s voice is light and playful but her face is set.

Yuuri is partly grateful for the harsh words because the worst is over. He drops his arm from Mila’s shoulder, but only to twist his fingers together, “I’m going to have to do something drastic to go back.”

“You could just stay.” Mila’s suggestion isn’t crazy or impossible, her grip tightens on him. Yuuri _could_ stay, except...

Except he left Phichit without anyone. Which is weird because Phichit has 500 friends, real muscle-and-sinew friends, not the virtual kind, so it’s crazy to think of him as alone. But he _is_ alone and Yuuri is responsible for that. Yuuri wonders if his best friend has wasted away to nothing but eyes and eyebrows and tendons all held together by a ferocious upbeat disposition. “I have to go back.” His voice sounds desperate, even to himself.

“Stubborn,” says Mila softly, “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“It’s what I-“

Mila pinches Yuuri’s neck hard enough to blur his vision and Yuuri swallows down the indignation at being treated like a friend. “Fine,” grumbles Yuuri, “But I still have to try.”

Mila doesn’t look phased by this, “I figured.” She

“Are you going to let go of me,” asks Yuuri, deciding that if Mila’s decided she was Yuuri’s friend, then Yuuri might as well follow her lead. “Or were you going to strangle me before Lilia has a chance to?”

And because Mila’s tongue is sharpened to a point, she asks, “Do you want me to?” She yanks him to a stop. “Or should I just hug you again?”

Yuuri wants to smile, but he holds off because Mila is looking at him as if she’s trying to find a crack into which to dig her nails. If it had been Victor, Yuuri would have already said something horrible and unforgivable. But Mila still has his snot and tears on her shoulder.

“No. I’ll just start crying again.”

“You do that a lot,” says Mila, her forehead creasing slightly, and they’re walking through the doors of central command. “Is that from the anxiety?”

Yuuri shrugs, “Maybe I’m just delicate.” Mila gives him an amazed smile and Yuuri feels like he’s accomplished something worthwhile.

“I’m going to go find them, you stay here.”

...

Yuuri’s brain feels like ground beef by the time he stumbles back into the clinic, he recognizes Ciao Ciao and a patient sitting together, but he can’t be bothered to deal with that right now. Yuuri’s current goal is his bed and his vision narrows down to that. But Celestino immediately pause when Yuuri enters. 

“How did it go?” Celestino is holding a needle which he recaps using two hands, “You’re alive so that’s-“

Yuuri’s breath hitches and the knot in his throat explodes into a white-hot pain that bubbles out of him, tears streaming down his face.

It takes Celestino a few seconds to come up with something that isn’t an awkward pat on the back, “Oh, jeez. What happened? You know you don’t have to do anything Lilia or Sara say, right? You can hide here. I’ll hide you,” he says firmly.

“You’re not supposed to use two hands to recap a needle,” says Yuuri instead, because Ciao Ciao offering to keep him safe is too much and that just makes Yuuri weepy all over again. He scrubs at his eyes, “You’ll stick yourself with the needle.” Yuuri’s voice is remarkably calm for someone who looks like a faucet. “You’re working conditions are so dangerous Celestino. What are you going to do when I leave?”

Ciao Ciao’s mouth falls open, he glances at the needle, at his patient who shrugs, and then back to Yuuri. He recovers enough to snap, “Get upstairs and go to sleep, you look dead on your feet. And my working conditions are fine! Gods, boy!”

Yuuri’s last bit of patience crumbles because he manages to give Celestino a shaky glare before he stomps upstairs, like a child. Celestino points at the place where Yuuri disappeared up the stairs, “Three days and a half days away from home and he comes back _rebellious_. Can you believe that?”

“Shameful,” tuts Ciao Ciao’s patient, “Used to be children listened to their elders.”

“Exactly!” Ciao Ciao uncaps the needle, administers the injection and this time he one-hands the recap, “Ungrateful! Stubborn! I don’t know why I bother.”

“It’s the eyes,” answers the patient wisely, “They worm into you, and _that_ one has eyes to rival any cow.”

Ciao Ciao nods solemnly and tell the patient she can go.

The only reason Yuuri wakes up is because he’s hungry; hungry enough that it takes up all of his brain power and he almost walks downstairs without a shirt. He tries to remember the last time he ate, there’s a stale taste of coffee in his mouth. But it feels encrusted and gross and Yuuri decides that brushing his teeth is important before heading downstairs.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Ciao Ciao is sitting at the big desk in the main clinic room. He points to the door, “You need to get out more. Make some friends. It’s breakfast time, go on.”

“Stop two-handing recaps,” snaps Yuuri and Ciao Ciao snorts.

“Can you believe that?” says Celestino to no one in particular. “Listen boy, you’re not the-“

“Oh, good morning Yuuri!” Mila sweeps out of a curtained-off area, “I’m taking him to breakfast, Ciao Ciao, he sounds hangry. And I’m _starving_.”

“That’s not a real word.”

Yuuri slept so long that Victor bore the brunt of the welcome back craziness. Which is why only Chris gets up to crush Yuuri into a hug while the rest of the mess hall just yells at him for pretending to be dead.

There’s a vaguely alarming hole in his stomach that makes him frantic, but Yuuri allows himself to be hugged anyway. He’s also too hungry and frantic to care that Chris sits on his other side, talking about setting up their own black market. Mila leans away to talk with someone else.

Victor is sitting a few seats away and Yuuri glances at him in question, ‘ _black market?’_ Victor shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“What would you even sell,” asks Yuuri through a mouthful of cheese and egg.

“Drugs! Obviously.” Chris is languidly leaning against him, “From your clinic. According to Victor they go for a pretty penny.”

“I’m not giving you shit.” says Yuuri evenly, and Chris gapes at him. Victor looks up from his food, grinning, “See? And you were worried.”

“Yuuri.... are you not going to let me be mean to you anymore?” Chris whines into his ear as Yuuri tries to stuff more food into his mouth before he’s obligated by polite society to answer.

“I think I broke him,” says Victor sadly, “I was too mean and his tiny brain just snapped. Tragic.”

Yuuri just eats, feeling happy that the yawning hole in his stomach is sealing itself off.

Chris looks skeptically at Victor, “I think he’s only sassy when it’s anything to do with the clinic.”

“After everything I did for you. You make me look like a fool.” Victor has the audacity to look betrayed.

Yuuri lowers his fork and points it at Victor, “You did the bare minimum. _I_ took you shopping with _my_ drug money.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Chris says delicately, looking like Yuuri’s handing over a solid-gold crown, “So the first thing you do with your money is become Victor’s _sugar daddy_.”

Victor makes a sound like a dying dog. “Chris....”

“I’m leaving,” says Yuuri, gathering up his meal, “I’m going to finish my breakfast and then throw myself into the river. Yura can have my scarf.”

 _“I_ wanted your scarf!” said Mila, looking furious.

“Fight for it.” Yuuri gathers up his dirty plates before running away.

...

Just because Lilia had asked for a private audience was no reason to panic, she had reassured him it was just a formality. A debriefing. Everyone who went on a mission did them. Victor did his yesterday while Yuuri slept. Yuuri’s hands still shook when he pulled open the door to central command.

Only Lilia waited for him in the lobby, wearing the same face as yesterday, impassive. “Instead of a debriefing, I’m going to introduce you to someone who is... sympathetic to your situation. There’s no possibility of your returning to Met-Sig without help, unless you want to be tortured?”

“No,” said Yuuri, feeling a vice grip around his throat.

“Good. Then this is the only way. They have agreed to help.”

Yuuri’s throat dried up and he had to swallow several times, “You mean for a price,” meekly following Lilia into the building. The cold perfection of Lilia’s composure was a balm, it calmed Yuuri enough to strangle his panic. He could panic later.

“Don’t be gauche, of course there is a price,” said Lilia, dipping her chin, “You’ll be an asset. Or maybe you’ll just be a message runner. Or keep a look out for certain people. I’m not sure what they want yet. We’ll hear it together. Agreed?”

Yuuri yanked his head up and down, his throat too dry for speech.

“This person is well-connected enough to keep you safe when you return to Met-Sig.” Lilia walked much slower than necessary, occasionally glancing at him from the edges of her vision.

 

 

She motioned Yuuri into her office, “Our Listener is already here. Sit.” A slim silver speaker was on the glass desk, a small light blinked on its face.

“Hello.” The Listener was a young woman by the sound of it, lightly accented voice that tugged on Yuuri’s memory. He tipped his head and remained standing, “H-Hello,” he echoed. Lilia also ignored her own chair. She kept her shoulders pushed down and back, her hands curled in slightly, “Listener. This is your newest recruit. Katsuki Yuuri.”

There was a long pause from the Listener, so long that Lilia cleared her throat.

“It’s a common name,” said the Listener, their voice acquiring a hard edge.

Lilia looked at him sharply.

“I suppose it is,” said Yuuri, wondering what he could have done to displease his benefactor so early on.

The Listener was silent for another awkward, long moment, the speaker crackled softly. “Yes. Of course, it is a common name. Have you been told the terms of exchange?”

“I get to go home without being tortured to death and I uhh... spy? For you. The cause,” amended Yuuri and Lilia nodded in approval. She slid into her chair, resting her sharp chin on her fingers.

“That’s right. Although I will warn you: the strings I pull may become a noose in the end. Even if you aren’t tortured, they will be watching.”

Yuuri rested his hands on the desk, leaning his weight onto something solid and immovable. “They?”

“The government. Your superiors. Coworkers. Neighbors. Everyone will be scrutinizing you at all times. You _breathe_ too hard and someone, somewhere will find an excuse to haul you off to a blacksite.”

Lilia shook her head, “Your help doesn’t sound very valuable. Yuuri is invaluable where he currently is; if you can’t offer protection then I will cancel everything.” She waved down Yuuri’s protest, silently shushing him.

“I see,” the Listener sighed, “It’s just that you haven’t given me much time to work with.”

“So if you had longer-?“

“I could pull in people more sympathetic to us. I could virtually guarantee Mr. Katsuki’s safety and maybe even some anonymity.”

“How long are we talking about,” asked Yuuri, “I don’t want to wait more than necessary.”

“You could go home tonight if you don’t mind being torn apart my dogs,” sneered the Listener, “Give me two months and I can give you a reasonable landing into a less hostile environment. I just need proof of coercion.“

“We can give you that proof,” said Lilia dismissively, “Yuuri is only here to hear the terms. Not to squabble about the minutiae.”

“Very well. In essence Katsuki will be contacting the Nishigori family to convince them to support our cause; we have information they desperately want, and that is your leverage.”

Yuuri waited for more but the Listener remained silent. “What? That’s it.” Lilia glared at him.

“Are you asking for more?” The Listener sounded amused.

“N-No!”

“Then I believe that’s all,” interjected Lilia, “The details will come later. Go Katsuki.”

Yuuri nodded, “Good-bye,” and slid out of the office.

...

“Victor.” Yuuri climbs the stairs to the clinic.

Lounging in one of the chairs left on the clinic’s porch is Victor, eating a donut. Victor held his hand up in greeting.

“Need something?”

“Yes. The anchor.”

“Oh! I completely forgot!”

“I figured,” Victor followed him inside, “I’ve been waiting for you since after breakfast. Where’d you disappear to?”

“Bathroom,” lied Yuuri, “My stomach was bothering me.” He waved to Ciao Ciao studying at the main desk.

“You have bathrooms in the clinic.” Victor also greeted Celestino and followed Yuuri through the clinic.

“I felt like using a different bathroom. What does it matter?” Yuuri stopped at the door of the stairs that lead to the lived-in rooms, “You can wait down here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you-“ Victor stopped, Yuuri’s hand in his face, but tried to edge around him.

“Do you suddenly not understand Standard? Wait down here.”

“What, do you have embarrassing crap up there?” Victor leaned on the wall and watched Yuuri run upstairs, when Yuuri came back Victor insisted, “Tell me it isn’t bodies up there.”

Yuuri’s lip curled, “Oh yeah. Tons of bodies. I paint the nails so they look pretty. Either you want this-“ he held out the anchor, “Or you want to see the bodies stacked in freezers upstairs.”

“I’ll take the anchor and trust that you’re a filthy liar,” He turned away. Ciao Ciao was staring at him and Victor felt obligated to wave again as he walked through the clinic.

Yuuri placed a hand over his heart, “I have your trust?! Oh happy day.” Yuuri was a little dismayed at how easy it was to be rude, luckily Victor only gave him a disappointed look.

“I’m not mad, just very very disappointed in you, I thought we were going to restrain ourselves from further arguments and screaming matches.” Victor shook his head unhappily.

Yuuri dearly wanted to say that whispering would solve half the problem, but even in his head that sounded way too forward.

“Although,” hummed Victor, “If we whisper.... then technically-“

Yuuri clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his snort.

“What? What did I say?”

But all Yuuri did was shake his head and close the clinic door in Victor’s face.

“Wow.”

Yuuri jerked around to look at Celestino, “What?”

“That was weird to watch.” Celestino narrowed his eyes, “It was almost... friendly.”

“Yeah,” said Yuuri, nervously clasping his hands in front of himself, “Sometimes I wonder when he’ll get tired of pretending.”

“Pretending what?” Ciao Ciao pushed his notes aside.

“Um well,” Yuuri shrugged, “You know. Of being polite. Sometimes.... there’s yelling.” Yuuri winced and threaded his fingers together to keep them still.

The notes slid further way, Ciao Ciao almost pushing them off the desk, “Oh, so it wasn’t all sunshine and puppies for three days?”

“No,” laughed Yuuri, “It was three days of sunshine and screaming. It’s fine.”

“If you say so, kid,” Ciao Ciao’s big meaty fingers tapped out a wobbly rhythm on his desk.

...

Victor made a big production of bringing out the anchor and bending on one knee to give it to Chris, saying.

“Your majesty. A gift from the neighboring kingdom.”

“Rise, Good Prince and present your gift.”

Yura already testing the new skin of his arm, muttered something obscene and offensive, flexing his arm while sitting at the table.

With a flourish, Victor brought out the anchor and Chris played along by ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’. “An anchor!”

Victor rose off the floor, tired of the game already, and said, “It’s a radio anchor for Izzy Yang and JJ Leroy’s show.”

Chris’ face wrinkled for a moment and then cleared up into a blinding smile. “Oh Victor! This is amazing!” Victor laughed and shuffled his wings so Chris could adjust his hug.

“You’re very welcome,” said Victor, smiling back, “Come on! Let’s hear it.”

Yurio got up and stood next to Victor, watching Chris work, plugging in the anchor and booting up the program that would sync the frequencies.

“Have you seen Katsuki today?”

Startled, Victor nodded, “Why?”

“How did he seem?”

“I... don’t know? Normal?”

Yurio scowled, “Never mind. You’re fucking useless.”

Victor shuttled through what Yurio could possibly know of Yuuri that Yuri would be talking to _him_ about it. Maybe Yurio heard something from Otabek who was in the inner circle of central command. That had to be it. “What’s going on with that? Lilia and company?” Victor decided to take a stab in the dark.

“So you do know. And I thought you were for-real stupid,” Yurio shook his head, arms crossed tightly.

“You know me so well, Yurio,” said Victor, “Katsuki seemed normal. A bit cagey but that’s just how he is.”

Yurio nodded in agreement, “I guess Beka and Sara didn’t have to worry about anything after all. Maybe Katsuki isn’t going to die when he goes back.”

 _So that’s what it is_. Victor nodded like this was all old news, “Anyway, I’m gonna go take a walk.”

“I don’t need a play-by-play of your pathetic life. I don’t care.”

Victor closed his eyes, debating whether he wanted to live to tomorrow or not. He decided Yurio was more bark than bite and smacked a loud kiss on his hair. “But you do!” And Victor was out the door before Yurio could do more than twitch in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments! Thanks so so much! :))))


	13. The land is for those that work it

“I’m not going!” Yuri stomps his foot, “And you can’t make me!” Otabek’s scowl makes Yuri flinch.

“I _won’t_ make you help with the new civilian camp,” corrected Otabek, “But you chose to carry a gun, and you’ve been given orders.” Patiently, Otabek waited for Yuri to go through his fury. Although there was a moment where the kid looked like he was about to stomp away.

“Fine,” spat out Yuri, “but you’re-” Yuri clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m?” asked Otabek, lifting an eyebrow.

“Argh!” Yuri tossed his hands up, “I can’t believe this.” He pulled a disgusted face, “I hate this.”

Otabek smiled and playfully tugged on Yuri’s hair. It was growing longer, long enough to braid. “Are you ever going to cut your hair?”

“Fuck’s it matter if I don’t?”

“No reason,” assured Otabek, his eyes crinkling, “I’ll meet you out front. Half and hour.”

It only took a few minutes to toss some clothes and soap into a bag, but Yuri was furious he had to go help set up a new village for civs. As far as Yuri was concerned, civilians should choke on dirt, any avian that didn’t fight for their rights was dead weight.

He made his way to the comms building but Victor just snapped at him to go play elsewhere. Yuri called him an unsavory name and left. He wandered to the command center; it was buzzing like usual. More so now that everyone was anxiously protecting the idiot civilians until their own defenses were up.

“Yura,” said Lilia, her voice raspy, “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t take her eyes away from the main screen.

“Bored,” replied Yuri, letting his feathers brush up against Lilia’s, “They better be grateful at getting babied.” He spat onto the floor and rubbed his shoe into the spot.

“They’ll be hungry and desperate for help,” said Lilia, “So no, they won’t be grateful. Shouldn’t you be with Otabek?” Lilia ran a hand absently down Yura’s wing to straighten some errant feathers, “You need to take care of this more often, doesn’t it itch?”

“Some,” said Yuri with disdain, “But it doesn’t bother me.” Lilia watched him stalk out of the room.

The clinic was twice as busy as any of the other places, there were three patients and Mila was furious at Ciao Ciao.

“The old bastard somehow convinced Katsuki that _I_ should go help instead of him,” Mila growled to Yuri, somehow wrangling him into helping her load up a crate with antivirals. “I can’t _believe_ I have to put up with civs for a week.” She groaned and flopped over the crate.

“Civilians should be in the slums, not wasting our time and taking all the good places for future campsites.”

Mila shut the crate of antivirals, easily shouldering the weight, before heading out back where a large truck was being loaded with supplies and equipment for the future village’s clinic. Mila grunted in agreement, “No reason for them to make themselves a target, but what can you do, right? It’s their life.”

“Who’s making themselves a target?” Yuuri stepped out after them, struggling with two crates, Mila relieved him of one. “Careful Mila, those are ampoules in there.”

“These civilians,” said Yuri, hopping onto the truck and shoving crates around to make more room, “They shouldn’t be messing around in the forest as if they’re doing _us_ a favor. They should all be lined up and-”

Mila smacked the back of his head, “Shut your mouth!” Impressively, Yura gritted his mouth shut, not saying another word.

“Aren’t you suppose to be with Otabek?” Yuuri didn’t like the way Mila was glaring. Once Yura left, Yuuri asked, “What was he about to say?”

“Something awful,” said Mila darkly, “Yura’s a kid, but the places where he’s grown up... it hasn’t left room for much empathy. If we don’t do something, he’s going to grow up into a beautiful monster.”

“Shouldn’t you tell this to Otabek?”

“I think Otabek already knows.”

...

The ride through the forest is bumpy and Yuuri spends it squeezed between Mila’s elbow in his ribs and Yuri’s legs thrown over his lap. But there’s a breeze blowing in his face so it’s good, there’s a hard jolt and Mila jabs his liver, “Sorry”

“You don’t have to put up with him you know,” Victor was jammed in between Otabek and another burly avian. Victor pointedly looked at Yuri’s legs.

“Don’t you dare move, Katsuki. I’m comfortable,” Yuri dug his heels into Yuuri’s thighs, making him yelp. Yuri doesn’t apologize, but he moves his heels off, settling further back. To Victor, Yuuri looks perfectly happy smashed in between two seat-hogs. But he can’t say the same for himself, good thing he’s so thin.

Hours later the truck stops and Yuri scrambled over everyone in a frantic bid for freedom, whacking several people with his wings.

“He needs to learn how to tuck them in.” Yuuri rubs his shoulder, “Or at least to just _wait.”_ He slides out of the truck and watches Otabek greet some people from the new village. Most of the civilians are avians, there are a lot of children.

“And destroy his bratty reputation?” Victor laughs, stretching to full height, spine crackling softly. Yuuri watched him shuffle back and briefly stretch out his silvery wings, groaning in relief.

“I can hear you!” snarled Yuri, looking ready to charge at Victor, “Both of you, don’t tell me what to do!”

“Come on, Yuri. We’ve got to set up the spoofers while there’s sunlight.” Otabek’s gaze snaps from Yuri to Victor, his eyebrows dipping for a moment before he moved away.

“That was a warning,” said Yuuri, and in the confusion of hauling supplies out of the trucks and getting everyone organized, no one hears him but Victor.

Victor hauls a bag onto his back and picks up a second in his arms to balance him out. “Beka’s all bark and no bite,” Victor feels confident in this and follows the train of bodies heading towards a cleared field that’s seeded with building foundations all connected with dirt pathways. Large machines hooked up to tankards are already working on laying down strips of wet cement to create the first buildings.

Yuuri cocks his head, “I wouldn’t say _all_ bark, there’s bite there.”

“Hah! You would know,” replies Victor and then bites his tongue because although Yuuri brought it up, he isn’t sure if that’s an invitation to joke about something like being tortured, “I’ll tread carefully from now on,” he adds quickly and Yuuri snorts. “Unless I want a matching nozzle scar on my face.” The words pop out of his mouth before Victor can stop them, but inexplicably Yuuri laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warn you if you’re treading into that kind of danger,” Yuuri laughs quietly, scrunching his nose.

Victor takes a hard look at Yuuri, who’s fumbling with a crate in his arms and doesn’t notice the scrutiny. But from what Victor can tell, Yuuri isn’t being sarcastic. He genuinely took Victor’s comment as a joke. “Will my first clue be Beka stalking me with that nozzle cranked to full blast?” Victor isn’t intentionally pushing to see how callous he can be before Yuuri gets angry, but now he’s curious of where that line is.

“No, not at all.” Yuuri’s voice is crisp, “The first clue will be the murderous glint in his eye. Very noticeable change from his usual deadpan.”

Victor snickers, “You’ve seen it often? In the past?” Close. Cutting very close to a topic Victor _knows_ is taboo.

“Sure.” He says it coolly enough, but Victor senses the conversation is over.

For the first time, Victor feels a flash of pity for him.

“Don’t,” snarled Yuuri, “Don’t do that.”

Victor’s mouth fell open, “Do what?!” But Yuuri just hefted his box higher and walked away.

...

Four hours in and Victor realizes why Yura balked at coming. Nothing is set up, the only thing that exists is the cleared ground, the building foundations, and the supplies all in crates. Which means Victor is charged with setting everything up fort he comms building; luckily he has Chris talking him through it and manages to set up a small console under a temporary tarp shelter.

“You won’t fuck this up,” promises Chris, then sneezed into the microphone.

Victor scoffs, “Of course I won’t. The only time I fuck is sexually.”

Chris laughed at him, “ I’m _sorry,_ okay? I’m sorry I got sick.”

Victor sighed, “Don’t worry about it, just drink lots of fluids.” The sound through the radio is crisp and Victor feels proud he managed that at least.

“Sure thing buddy. Well you’d better get to it,” Chris’ voice is a dry rattle in his ear, “Daylight’s wasting! Has Otabek gotten the spoofers online?”

“Yes, the light’s are blinking for the perimeter. Get to sleep _early,_ ” Victor disconnects the line and sighs, sagging in his seat. Four hours of work and all he has is a jury-rigged console that looks ready to fall apart. Victor growled in frustration, there was supposed to be someone from the town helping him.

“Wow! You did all this by yourself?” An ebullient young man with washed-out blue eyes and blue roan wings shoves his way into the makeshift tent to Victor’s side, “It looks good! You could have called me, you know? I’ve been at the cafeteria all day doing nothing. Good thing you’ve got it all in hand!” He smiles.

Victor sees red, “I was _busy-“_

A tiny child pokes his head around the flap, “Emil? Miss Kanako’s looking for you.” He looks at Victor curiously.

Emil pats the child’s head, “Thanks Kenjirou. Come too...uh...”

“Victor.” He manages to no scream, for the sake of the child.

“Emil Nekola, and the cute bug is Minami Kenjirou.”

“I’m from Japan,” pipes up the child, like this is something he tells everyone, “And I’m seventeen.” Victor does a double take.

“You are not,” says Victor, astonished, “You look ten.”

Kenjirou smiles gently, “I know. I asked Yuri, from your camp, if he was still in middle school, he almost punched me.”

Victor’s anger drains out of him, and he smiles at him. “I like you, kid. You. Not so much,” he lets the smile slide off his face as he turns to face Emil.

“You can yell at me later,” Emil stalls, “Let’s go see what Kanako wants.” The only thing that prevents Victor from exploding is Kenjirou saying, “Good! Because I think she’s angry at you.”

Kanako is a hard woman with a soft mouth who welcomes Victor to camp. “I hope your stay with us is comfortable. As soon as construction is finished we’ll be having a big celebration. You are very welcome to stay for that too.”

“Oh thank you,” said Victor and meekly retreated when Kanako dismissed him and Kenjirou.

...

Victor looked up when someone’s shadow fell over him. “Katsuki? What do you want?”

“Lunch,” said Yuuri, holding up a bag, “Otabek said you never showed up for lunch.”

“So you volunteered to bring me lunch?” asked Victor, standing up and dusting his jeans of dirt. “How sweet.”

“I got the short end of the stick,” said Yuuri drily.

“I take offense to that.” Victor took the bag and looked inside.

“Ah, Victor~!”

Yuuri turned and saw a tall, thin avian with blue roan wings approaching, waving enthusiastically at Victor.

“Listen carefully,” said Victor, grabbing Yuuri’s shoulder, “When Emil comes over, say ‘Kanako needs to see Victor’. Do you understand?”

“No.” Yuuri murmured, “Why am I lying for you? And why are we whispering?”

“Because Emil is insufferable.”

“You don’t like anyone at first,” murmured Yuuri, “What did he do?”

“He’s _insufferable_. And just because we’re not friends doesn’t mean- shit here he comes.”

Yuuri laughed under his breath, “But we met under such fortuitous circumstances. How could we not be friends?”

Victor seemed to forget Emil in favor of responding to Yuuri’s sarcasm, “Very true. On the worst day of my life you were a shining beacon of hope.” Victor mocked him, “So kind.”

It was hard, joking about this. Yuuri’s heart was squeezing itself into a knot, making it difficult to breathe. Emil was almost on them. “Glad you’re finally recognizing it,” he retorted, just as Emil reached them and shook Yuuri’s entire arm up and down in greeting. Victor snorted.

“You must be Yuuri!” Emil gave him a friendly smile, “Sara has told me all about you. Extensively.” Emil’s blinding smile dimmed. Victor watched the color drain from Yuuri’s face.

“Ah?” Yuuri knew Sara wouldn’t have told Emil about his work at the prison. No matter what his anxiety told him. Yuuri gulped.

“Yes. You realize you’ll never be worthy of her, right?” Emil’s smile withered to a frown.

Yuuri snatched his arm back, “E-excuse me?!” Yuuri glanced at Victor, but he looked like Yuuri felt, eyebrows climbing high in disbelief.

“Good enough for Sara?” he stammered, turning back to Emil.

Victor felt a shock sizzle up his arms and neck, “No way,” he whispered gleefully. No _way_ would Sara ever talk about Yuuri like a lover, yet Emil thought... Maybe the man was more stupid than he let on.

“Yes. Even though her brother is dead, that doesn’t mean that any person can just worm their way into her life.”

“I’m not dating her,” said Yuuri in a panic, “I’m not- God! She’s _terrifying!_ ”

“Oh,” said Emil, stymied for the moment and finally registering Yuuri’s horrified face, “Then who is? Do you know?”

“Nope!” squeaked Yuuri, “Igottago.” He grabbed Victor’s sleeve and tugged, “There’s also um— Victor has to, uh— ”

“Set up the clinic’s emergency radios,” said Victor, talking out of his ass, “Later, Emil.”

“Oh... I could do it if you—”

“No,” said Victor hastily, “No don’t worry about it. Just stay here.” He grabbed a tool bag at random and followed Yuuri out.

They ran out and followed one of the paths to the clinic in silence until Yuuri said, “Oh my God...” He felt drained.

“I told you he’s insufferable...”

“From now on,” said Yuuri, “I’ll believe anything you say.”

“Hah!”

...

Dinner was held in a shoddy balsawood building cobbled together with permaglue and staples. Otabek grabbed some food and toyed with the idea of sitting next to Yuri.

Otabek hadn’t spoken with Yuri all afternoon and it was nice to see him talking to people that weren’t soldiers. Otabek had noticed Yuri talking more frequently with one teenager, blonde except for a tuft of red hair. That was nice.

“It’s good to see him with other teenagers, right?” Mila slung an arm around him, following Otabek’s gaze. “You ever consider just leaving him here, Beka? Letting him have a normal life?”

“I’ve tried talking with him,” said Otabek quietly, “But he just gets very angry. He’s old enough to make his own choices in any case.”

Mila patted Otabek’s neck in sympathy, “Okay, okay, no more frowning. Come on, we’re all eating at that table. But!” Mila held out a warning finger, “Don’t mention anything about the building to Victor. He already yelled at Yuuri who said something about structural integrity.”

“I don’t care,” said Otabek, following Mila. At the table Katsuki and Victor were tossing frosty looks at one another which everyone else was ignoring, “Not a word,” hissed Mila.

Otabek shrugged and kept quiet, all he had to do was wait for Yuri, who had a knack for livening up conversation. About ten minutes later Yuri and the red-tufted teen sidled up to the table. “This is Kenjirou, now make space.” They squeezed into the table, Yuri viciously elbowing Mila when she refused to let Kenjirou squeeze in.

Yuuri looked curiously at Kenjirou who somehow wasn’t put off by Yuri’s abrasiveness.

“Where are you from?” asked Kenjirou, laser-focusing on Yuuri as well.

Yuuri blinked, “Uh, Japan.” He winced when Kenjirou gasped.

[Do you speak it?] Kenjirou’s eyes were shining.

“Um,” Yuuri nervously licked his lips, [Yes. But not for years, so I apolo-]

[I recognize your accent!] Kenjirou slammed his palms on the table and leaned in towards Yuuri, one of his sleeves trailing into the smashed yams, [You’re from Kyushu, right?! My mom’s family is from there!] Kenjirou turned crimson when Yuuri nodded. [ Wonderful! You’re absolutely amazing! I’m so excited to meet you!]

“Is he confessing to you?” asked Victor, partly to be an asshole, partly because he wanted to know what Kenjirou was saying, “First you’re dating Sara and now you’re seducing Kenjirou? For shame.”

Yuuri’s scream was drowned out by Yuri and Mila’s shrieks.

Mystified but unwilling to wade into the morass of whatever was going on, Otabek closed a hand around Yuri’s wrist to prevent him from launching himself at Katsuki. The argument remained verbal until Yuuri said something that was too quick for Otabek to catch, but it made Victor shoot to his feet and storm off.

Yuuri dropped back into his chair, “ _Emil_ is the one who thinks-“

“Oh,” said Kenjirou, interrupting Yuuri, “I should have guessed. Emil is a notorious gossip. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in town knows Yuuri and Sara are dating.”

Yuuri cried out, “I’m not-!”

“ _I’m_ dating Sara,” hissed Mila, “Sara kisses _me._ ”

“You’ll have to convince Emil, and he’s stubborn with-“ Kenjirou yelped when Mila yanked him up and dragged him away from the table, out the cafeteria.

“Hey!” yelled both Yuris. Yuuri abandoned his plate of food to follow Sara outside. “Why not just call Sara through the radio? She can tell Emil what’s going on.”

Mila paused, “Is this radio even connected to Chris’?”

“I think so,” panted Kenjirou, unsubtly trying to reach for Yuuri.

Mila flicked her wrist, letting Kenjirou go, “Alright, I’m either going to straighten this out or I’m about to kill a man.”

They watched Mila stalk away.

“What did I miss?” Yuri trotted up to them.

“Mila’s going to kill Emil,” Kenjirou looked like he believed it and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

...

“I’m bored!” Mila leaned against Yuuri’s back, whining; she pushed until Yuuri was bowed over his own lap and she was looking up at the overcast sky. After talking with Sara and Emil, Mila was in a playful mood.

“Mila,” said Yuuri for the sixth time, “Please let me read. This is important. You should be reading too; I won’t be around forever.”

“You won’t?!” Kenjirou looked devastated, put the journal he was reading down. Since finding out Yuuri was from the same town, Kenjirou had refused to leave Yuuri’s side. He’d even declared his intention of studying medicine too, much to Yuuri’s amusement.

 “Right?! Yuuri made it sound like he’s on death’s door or something,” Mila huffed, fanning her face with a journal, “Don’t worry baby Katsuki Jr., Yuuri’s not dying, he’s just going home soon.”

“Please don’t call Kenjirou that,” grumbled Yuuri.

“To the slums? Can I come with you?!” Kenjirou perked up, eyes shining. Yuuri straightened himself, shoving Mila back.

“Uh no, I’m sorry. Besides, you don’t really know me so-“

“But I can be a big help!” insisted Kenjirou, puffing up his russet-colored wings, “I won’t get in your way! We can talk about home together!” Yuuri’s eyes flickered to Kenjirou’s wings.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just not possible,” said Yuuri softly. The boy visibly deflated, curling up into a very small puddle at Yuuri’s feet.

“What did you do, Katsuki?” Yuri strode into the clinic, a gun slung across his back, “Why does Minami look more pathetic than usual?”

“Yuuri doesn’t want me as an apprentice,” whimpered Kenjirou, “Even though I can be a big help and I don’t mind living in the slums! I really don’t,” he turned giant doe eyes on Yuuri.

Yuri jerked back in surprise, “The slums? Katsuki, I thought you were going back to the city and like be a spy—“ Yuri clamped his mouth shut when Kenjirou gasped.

Yuuri dropped his head onto his hands when Kenjirou’s face threatened to rip in two from how hard he was smiling. “I should have known! You’re so cool, Yuuri! Does that mean you’re-”

“ _Cool?_ ” sneered Yuri, “He’s not _cool_. Katsuki’s... He’s- he’s- well just look at him!”

“The coolest,” insisted Kenjirou stubbornly, and Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, come on. You said there was a lake or something nearby and I want to see it.”

“Okay!” Kenjirou leapt up, “As long as we’re back before lunch. Yuuri promised to teach me how to stitch people up if I stopped calling him Mr. Katsuki; that one doesn’t count,” said Kenjirou forcefully to Yuuri.

“Be safe,” said Yuuri, still hiding his face.

Mila shook a deck of cards in front of Yuuri, “I won’t make fun of you if you play one round with me.”

Yuuri was getting a headache from the noises of machines constructing the clinic a few yards away. “Okay, just a couple of games.”

“Yes!”

The card game is a mistake because Mila turns out to be a shark and Yuuri quickly runs out of things he doesn’t mind losing. “Why don’t you bet your scarf?” she said innocently.

“I’d rather cut off my own ear,” muttered Yuuri. He looks up from their game, spotting Otabek. “Hi!”

There’s a moment of silence when Otabek walks up to them and peeks at Yuuri’s hand, “What are you playing? Can I join?”

Yuuri gets up and gives his hand to Otabek, “You’re welcome to try and beat her. I’m broke.”

“That’s not true,” Mila pouted, but Yuuri leaves anyway. “Aw, come on Yuuri! Your scarf looks much better on me _anyway!_ ”

Yuuri wandered away, towards the sound of a builder-machine laying down strips of cement, he watches the machine rotate rhythmically.

“Hey, you! Move back, ‘less you want to become part of the building!” Emil squints against the sun and Yuuri realizes he hasn’t been identified yet, he turns to run away.

“Oh Yuuri!”

Yuuri turns back around, attempting to smile. Emil leaps from the scaffolding and glides to him, landing near enough that Yuuri feels buffeted by air.

“I didn’t apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday. But I swear I can explain.” Emil tucks his chin in, “Sara is my best friend’s sister. Technically he’s not my best friend anymore since he was murdered at that avian prison Met-Sig has,” he looks up at Yuuri who’s frozen in shock, “but since I haven’t found anyone else to be my best friend, I guess he’s all I’ve got. Is that sad? It sounds sad to say that your best friend is dead. But anyway: I got to talk with Sara yesterday and today through the radio, and she doesn’t sound so sad anymore. And I’m glad for that. Sara deserves to be happy! Time really is a healer of wounds, right?”

“Uhhh...” Yuuri took a step back, “Yes? So you like Sara then?” It would explain why Emil was so... weird and possessive.

“No no!” Emil turned pink, looking shocked, “I think Mickey would find the willpower to come back from the dead just to kick my ass,” Emil’s smile is soppy, “That would be great don’t you think?”

Yuuri twitches, “No?”

Emil’s eyes widen, “You’re right, a zombie Mickey would spell the end of men as it is!” He turns his washed-out eyes on Yuuri, “I can’t believe I thought you were dating Sara. Hah!” He looks Yuuri down, assessing, his mouth twisting, “I don’t mean that as an insult to you, you are very cute! In an awkward, nerdy kind of way. I was sort of into Mickey when he was alive and- Oh.” Emil’s expression falls, “I’m rambling, right? Too much? You look kind of... sick. It’s just that Sara told me what a nice person you are and said I should apologize. I realize I’m still rambling, but wanted to explain why I dumped my life story on you after yesterday when I... Sorry.” Emil winced, “I probably should have started with something less heavy... like the weather or just the apology, but I wanted you to understand.”

“Mickey’s a unique name,” says Yuuri, desperate to stop the word vomit from Emil.

“Oh! Michelle is very common in Italy. Mickey’s just a nickname!”

Yuuri stops trying to think of a way to escape, the name catches in his memory like a thorn he can feel, yet can’t see, “Michelle Crispino?” There’s only so much he can process right now, and decides to ignore the rest of the bewildering and ridiculous conversation for later.

“Yup!” Emil nods enthusiastically, he turns towards the steady progress of the building, “Oh! I’ve got to go; the windows have to be put in while the cement’s at its softest. See you at dinner?”

“S-sure,” says Yuuri, stumbling back. In a daze, he tries to make his way back. He finds a small crowd of about twelve, in the center are Victor, Otabek, and Mila playing some sort of modified poker game.

He leaves them to their game and drops into a chair so he can just stare blankly into nothing. He’s almost come to grips with what happened when Yuri and Kenjirou come back, sopping wet and chattering.

[Yuuri, are you alright?] Kenjirou waved his hands around Yuuri, not sure if he was allowed to pet him.

[People are exhausting.] replied Yuuri before his brain could think of something better to say.

[Oh.] Kenjirou looked at him carefully, [Then why don’t you tell them to go away?]

Yuuri sputtered, [You can’t just tell people to go away, It’s not nice.]

[You need to care for yourself first right? You’re most important since you’re a medic.] Kenjirou looked so serious about his suggestion that Yuuri couldn’t respond. There was a weird pressure on his chest, and he was having a hard time focusing on anything besides trying to respond.

[That’s not true,] said Yuuri, managing a weak smile.

“It’s rude to talk in a different language in front of others, Katsuki.” snapped Yuri, just as the card game broke up.

“You need to be nicer to Yuuri!” said Kenjirou forcefully, poking Yuri in the chest, “You’re always so rude, to everyone!”

Yuri’s mouth fell open in shock. Yuuri got up and left them behind so they could bicker while he dashed around the bare bones walls of the future clinic. He knew Kenjirou meant well but all the noise and attention directed at him was too much. He propped his back against a rough cement wall and let loose, laughing and gasping until his stomach ached and he couldn’t see straight.

“I heard strangled yelling, who’s dying?” Victor came around the corner, “Kenjirou told me you- and I quote- ‘ran away like a graceful gazelle,’ but he wasn’t sure if you were okay.”

Yuuri tried to stifle his laughter but it was impossible, he sunk to the ground, his stomach aching and trying to hide his face.

“He’s a sweet kid,” said Victor mildly.

“Yes,” said Yuuri, finally looking up, “He is. Ah, I haven’t laughed like that in... a long time.” That’s when he realized just how closely Victor was looking at him, like he was being sized up. It made something in him twist and Yuuri struggled for a breath. “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to laugh at Yura in front of him. Kenjirou is very...blunt.”

Victor blinked, remembering who he was looking at, and seemed to accept the offered conversation, “Yes, he is quite blunt. You have dimples.”

 _Or_ Victor could go off on a tangent of a conversation. Yuuri scrubbed the last lingering tears away, taking a moment to try and calm himself. “Okay?” He placed his hands over his face, it wasn’t working, the acidic taste of panic was thick on his tongue.

“I only mention it because I never noticed before. Mila’s got laugh lines around her eyes, Yuri’s nose scrunches adorably when he laughs, Otabek’s mouth twitches-“

Yuuri’s laughter is hollow and forced.

Victor continued ticking off on his fingers, “Sara’s eyes disappear into little moons when she thinks something is funny, Chris’ mouth just yaws open like a giant cavern.“

“I get it!” Yuuri held a hand out, “But why are you obsessed with categorizing people’s faces?”

“I’m not, they’re just observations,” protested Victor, looking miffed that his list had been found uninteresting, “And until now I didn’t know what yours was.”

“Why do you care?” Yuuri winced. “That came out wrong.”

Victor leaned his shoulder against the rough wall, “No it didn’t, you said exactly what you meant.”

Kenjirou was right, sort of. “I’m tired, can we hold of on this argument until tomorrow?” Tomorrow when I’m not feeling like _this_ , Yuuri tried to discretely slow his breaths.

“We’re not arguing.”

“Well now you’ve put me in a corner,” said Yuuri, giving up on controlling his breathing, “if I disagree it’ll be an argument; but if I don’t disagree, you’ll think I’m just humoring you for no reason.”

“That’s just you being pedantic and overthinking the situation,” said Victor, sounding amused, “I don’t care why I win an argument; if I win, I win. End of story. Anyway, back onto important matters, why is it that it’s taken me two months to figure out you have dimples?”

Yuuri slowly turned his head up to stare at Victor, the exhaustion from earlier came rushing back stronger and sharper than before. He leaned his head back against the wall, “It must be your charming personality.”

“I _am_ charming.”

Yuuri shook his head, “Only when it suits you. If it’s not your charming personality... then it must be your good looks.”

“Oh you noticed?” Victor smirked.

“You bullied the requisitions lady into getting you that expensive conditioner. You obviously care a lot about your appearance.” Yuuri found if he closed his eyes, the nausea lessened. Deep breaths also helped, he’d be damned if he was going to throw up right now.

“Hmm, I have nothing to say to that that wouldn’t make you think worse of me. Why do you look sick?”

“Because I feel sick,” said Yuuri, pressing a hand to his chest, “Can you go away now? You’ve figured me all out. Congratulations.”

Victor tipped his head, “Should I get Mila? Or maybe a puppy to cuddle up to will help? Kenjirou would be a willing puppy.”

Yuuri dug his fingers into his eyes, “No. I just need you to go away.”

“I’ll get Mila.” Victor turned and walked away.

“No don’t- Ugh,” Yuuri tried to will himself upright. But he couldn’t even lift his face.

“Why is he on the floor?”

Great.

“I’m fine,” promised Yuuri even as Mila heaved him upright, “Just. I’m fine.”

Mila’s hands on his shoulders felt heavy, “You look like you’re having an attack.”

“An attack?” asked Victor which both Mila and Yuuri ignored.

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Yuuri, he sounded frustrated, “I don’t know why-“

Mila hooked an arm under Yuuri, “It doesn’t matter why, does it? But I don’t know where you can go.” She looked around, chewing her lip.

“What’s happening,” asked Victor, “What’s wrong?”

“If only I knew, then this would be so much easier,” said Yuuri wearily and Mila laughed.

“When was the last time you changed this?” She slapped his chest with the back of her hand.

Yuuri reached into his shirt, peeling the patch off, “I don’t remember.”

“Well there’s your problem! Victor stay here and make sure Yuuri doesn’t hyperventilate himself to death.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” grumbled Yuuri as Mila rolled her eyes and left.

“Generalized anxiety,” said Yuuri, not looking at Victor.

Victor shifts from one leg to the other, looking restless and a little guilty.

“No, it wasn’t your fault,” said Yuuri to the unasked question. Knowing that he’d been stupid enough to forget getting a new patch was enough to stave off a full-blown attack, but not enough to deal with Victor.

Victor doesn’t contradict him. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Please just go away.” Being able to rationalize the panic and uncontrolled breathing was one thing, but keeping himself from fainting from it was another matter. He lowered himself back onto the floor and concentrated on regulating his breath until Mila came back with a patch.

Victor decided it was better if he didn’t stick around, and Mila making threatening gestures at him spurred him to walk away. Both Kenjirou and Yuri were waiting for him, looking as curious as he felt.

“What is Katsuki doing? Mila came running out and then she ran away again, telling us not to bother Katsuki.”

“He’s fine,” said Victor, adding thoughtfully, “Just needs some quiet time I think. Like a timeout.”

Yuri’s lip curled. “You’re a terrible liar,” declared Yuri even though he had no idea if Victor was lying or not, but half the battle was always rattling things until something useful popped out.

“I’m the best liar you’ve ever met,” Victor smiled at Yuri, “Now run along you two. You won’t get anything out of me.”

“Is Yuuri really okay?” Kenjirou stood his ground even as Yuri tried dragging him away.

“Come see him later,” suggested Victor, “I think he’d like that a lot.” Victor didn’t know if Yuuri would be thrilled to entertain an excitable puppy, but Kenjirou seemed more mature than Yuri and probably wouldn’t make Yuuri feel worse at any rate.

Kenjirou blushed and grinned, “I will!” Finally letting Yuri drag him away.

...

Kenjirou peeked into the clinic and was happy to see Yuuri inside, calmly reading a book.

“Hello!”

Yuuri flinched and Kenjirou wilted, “Sorry, should I leave? I was sent over with food, but if you’re not hungry that’s okay!” He held out a small icebox. Yuuri blinked at Kenjirou leaning in the doorway and smiled.

“I am hungry. Thank you.” Yuuri cleared the little table away and pulled a second chair closer, [Let’s share it. It looks like you brought enough for both of us.] He smiled at Kenjirou’s stammering.

[I _did_ peek inside there is a lot, also it smells great,] he smiled bashfully at Yuuri, [I think it’s some type of pasta and veggies.] Kenjirou excitedly cracked the box open and Yuuri grinned at the delicious smells.

[Yum, carbs,] Yuuri helped Kenjirou pull everything out and set the icebox on the floor. Kenjirou split the food onto two plates while Yuuri poured out the flask of juice between two cups.

[But...] said Yuuri doubtfully, [How could you not know what’s inside? Did Mila pack it?] He clinks his cup against Kenjirou’s who grins widely.

[No, Victor gave it to me and told me to check on you. I’m glad you’re okay! A toast,] declared Kenjirou, [To new friends!] He holds his cup high and Yuuri mimics him.

[To new friends,] he murmurs, feeling strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! ಥ‿‿ಥ  
> My life got SUPER busy and I've bitten off more than I can chew, fic-wise.


	14. Secrets on the tongue

Everything is blurry.

Everything is blurry and he’s feeling. . . good. That’s weird.

Yuuri hasn’t felt good in months; hell maybe even years if he’s being honest. Certainly not since Minako and Mari-

Someone wearing blue and gold camouflage bumps into him and it never occurs to Yuuri that he should apologize; his eyes feel hot and his shoulders ache with how tightly he’s holding himself. So instead of apologizing he catches the person’s hand and squeezes it briefly, smiling. The person is pretty, with stripey brown wings, and _taaaall_. What had Mila said about these blues and gold avians? It was important; oh yes. Yuuri’s thoughts coalesced and he remembered that the blue and gold camouflage indicated the Red Guard. A rag tag group of avian militants. Mila had called them _heroes._ He allows the avian to look him down, appraising.

“Come on.” They said, tugging Yuuri with them, “Come on, this is a party. You should look happier. We’re celebrating.”

 _Isn’t he?_ “Oh,” breathed Yuuri, stumbling after them, unsure of where he’s being led, but knowing it would be _fun_ and _good_ and help him forget whatever it was that made him look unhappy.

Yuuri stumbled after the person, giggling when he’s pressed against a wall. The person holds him there firmly and that’s when Yuuri realizes he’s drunk.

 _Oh no_ , he thinks, _oh. No._ He knows this feeling, he isn’t buzzed, he’s beyond drunk, barely in control of his own limbs. He tries to tell the person that he’s too drunk. _Too drunk._

But he’s too slow, there are warm lips on his and it’s so nice, he enjoys the kiss. Up until he panics, the sour taste of it crawling up his throat.

No.

It’s not panic.

Puke.

Yuuri shoves the avian away and holds onto the wall as he empties the past two hours onto the ground. He hears laughter and feet running away.

“Shit,” spat Yuuri, his mouth tastes gross, his entire being feels gross. It was an unpleasant turnaround from two moments ago when he was being kissed. _Stupid lightweight._

Yuuri realized he said that aloud, _crap,_ and that too. People looked at him funny. He started walking.

Yuuri needed to find either his toothbrush stashed somewhere in his bag in the completed clinic building, or a glass of water, or preferably more alcohol so he could: _forget about almost throwing up on a nice person that kissed him._

“You almost _what?_ ”

Yuuri flinched, realizing he’s sitting at a table, clutching something that smelled suspiciously of water. Victor is next to him, head tipped back and laughing. “Oh my god, that poor person! At least you didn’t puke _on_ them.”

Fuck. “Ugh,” said Yuuri aloud and tipped the glass of water down his throat.

“Well at least you didn’t.” Victor nudges his shoulder and Yuuri wonders _why isn’t my cup full of alcohol._

“Because you told me to dry you out,” replied Victor, amused at how disappointed Yuuri sounds.

“Ugh,” said Yuuri again, sprawling over the table, _Wait..._ “Why are you all... Put together? Not drunk?” He squints at Victor.

“I’ve never gotten drunk at a party,” said Victor, smile slipping off his face. He recovers enough to give Yuuri a stiff smile, tipping his own small glass towards Yuuri, showing the amber liquid inside, “I do drink though.”

Someone holding large cups of something brown passes by and Yuuri manages to stagger upright to snag two from the tray.

Victor’s lips twitches when Yuuri struggles to sit down as well, coordinated movement is beyond Yuuri at this point. “I thought you said no more drinking?”

“Drunk me is an idiot,” said Yuuri dismissively, pushing one of the cups towards Victor.

“Do you think I should apologize?” asked Yuuri, gnawing on the edge of his cup, denting the hard plastic.

“Sure. Climb onto the roof of the community center and then scream out your apology. That’ll do it since you don’t know their name.”

“I’m a disaster,” whined Yuuri, fisting his hand into his hair.

“Cheers to that,” said Victor happily, tapping his cup against Yuuri’s. He ignored the drink Yuuri pushed towards him. “I can tell who’s an avian by watching who drinks and who doesn’t at parties,” mused Victor, looking out towards the crowd of revelers. “People who don’t drink at all are usually avians. I always made sure to drink a little and act silly.”

“That’s really depressing,” said Yuuri, slouching against Victor. His drunk brain fumbled for something nice to say, but everything escapes him. _Poor Victor._ He pats Victor’s arm.

“Yeah, poor me.”

“Well things are different now. For you,” Yuuri waves his cup around, sloshing both of them with it, “Have a little fun.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” said Victor sarcastically.

Yuuri puts more alcohol in his mouth because as long as he’s drinking he isn’t talking. Suddenly, Victor takes Yuuri’s cup and gripped his arm tightly.

“Victor?”

“Shh. I think there’s going to be a fight,” said Victor, he kept his eyes on something far away that Yuuri couldn’t see. Yuuri can hear angry yelling. The next moment Victor hauls him upright and they start running for the door.

“What’s happening?” They stumble into a wall, pressing themselves flat to avoid being dragged into the fight. Yuuri registers screaming and cursing through the fog of alcohol. Victor’s arm is pushing him into the wall.

“Don’t know,” said Victor, his voice tight, eyes roving across the hall, looking for a way out. “The Red Guard’s fighting with civilians.”

Yuuri gasps when an avian in blue and gold camo crashes at their feet, tangled up with someone from the town. _What is going on??_

Victor shushes him.

“Oh good, there’s Otabek. Come on Katsuki, keep up.”

“A.,” said Yuuri, feeling stupid and a lot drunk, “Everyone’s fighting. . . ”

“Yes,” hisses Victor, “Now shut up!” They weave through the crowd, Yuuri is starting feeling sick; _should have stopped drinking._

Victor clenches his jaw but says nothing.

Someone crashes into them and Yuuri slams into the floor. His elbows and hip sting, he scrambles for Victor, trying to find him in the tangle of limbs.

“Get off me!” An avian in blue and gold camo with flat yellow eyes snarls at Yuuri and strikes the angle of his jaw, Yuuri’s neck cracking to the side. For a few seconds, all Yuuri feels is the fire-brand pain emanating from his jaw and the smell of lighter fluid thick in his nose.

“Shit! Yuuri are you okay? Get up.” Victor drags at his arms.

He shoves Victor away, trying to curl back up until the pain and nausea recedes, but Victor pulls him upright, “Not an option. Let’s _go.”_

Yuuri tries to slow his breaths, keep himself calm even as they escape the chaos of the dining hall and spill outside. Victor makes a beeline for the dormitory they were assigned, relaxing only when they make it through the door.

“Come on Yuuri. Look there’s Mila and Otabek.” Victor steers Yuuri through the crowd on people taking refuge in the dorms, sits him down on a bed.

“Someone got you good,” quipped Mila, looking at Yuuri’s face.

“It’s like I’m wearing a target,” said Yuuri, gingerly touching his jaw, “What happened?”

“I told you,” said Victor shortly, “A fight. Now I have a more important question. Mila— Could you tell me exactly how the Red Guard works?”

“Hm? I’m not sure. Lilia hates them and doesn’t let them into our camp. Don’t know why.”

Swimming in the juices of his drunkenness, Yuuri mumbled. “You know... they look so familiar. I swear I’ve seen them before.”

“Oh!” Mila puffed up in pride, “Like on TV? The Red Guard’s always bragging about that.” She grinned broadly, “What does Met-Sig’s PR call them?”

Yuuri straightened up, eyes wide with growing horror. “Victor... You don’t think—“

“I do think,” answered Victor grimly, “Met-Sig doesn’t have a fancy name for the Red Guard, just calls them avian terrorists.”

 Mila frowns at Yuuri, “Terrorists?”

There’s no where Yuuri can look so he just nods miserably, “They’ve done some very awful things.”

“I think the worst I heard was the bus station,” said Victor softly, looking around warily. “But the Red Guard’s looked to as heroes, right”

Mila nodded, “Yeah. I wouldn’t go around spreading these stories—“

“They’re not stories,” snapped Victor,

“I’m not sure _I_ believe you,” said Mila, “I know you wouldn’t lie but the Red Guard’s legendary. It’s difficult to believe.”

“Not that it matters,” said Yuuri quietly, “Even if they stopped sneaking into Met-Sig immediately the media would still have years of attacks from them. It’s easy to rile people up with them. There are always raids after every attack.” He looked at Victor uneasily.

“The mad scientist is right,” said Victor, Yuuri pursed his lips but said nothing. “They time it so it looks like they’re got things under control. Gives the illusion that the humans are winning the war.”

Their conversation is interrupted when Otabek comes back with bottled water, clean bandages and news that the fighting has stopped. “Clean yourselves up, I’m going to go find Yura and then we’re packing up to go.”

“But we’ve been having such a great time,” said Mila and laughed when Otabek glared at her.

...

The minute Ciao Ciao saw him, his face darkened. “What happened?”

They were still piling out of the humvee, stretching and groaning from being in the cramped vehicle for a few hours. “I know,” said Yuuri through clenched teeth, “I know.”

“I want everyone to get to the clinic. I _see_ you limping Altin, you think I’m stupid?” Ciao Ciao manages to bully everyone into the clinic, but only keeps a hand on Yuuri the entire way there.

Otabek’s ankle is only sprained and Victor’s wrist is easily bandaged.

“You’ve got the brunt of it,” said Ciao Ciao, “Hairline fractures and strained tendons. Do you _want_ to lose your jaw? You’re lucky the skin wasn’t broken.”

“I know,” mumbled Yuuri, “It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault.”

Ciao Ciao grunted, “Go upstairs and take a shower, and a nap.”

“You’re not going to make me leave?” Yuuri asked timidly.

“Like you would even listen. Come back once you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you,” said Yuuri gratefully.

 ...

When Yuuri made it downstairs, Ciao Ciao intercepts him, directing him outside, “Sara’s been waiting wanting to talk with you.”

“Do you know about what?”

“By the look on her face, I can take a wild guess.” Ciao Ciao places a meaty hand on him, “You don’t have to go. You understand? You can stay here.”

“Thanks, Ciao Ciao.” Yuuri rubbed his mouth, trying to swallow down the thick knot.

Sara’s sitting on the porch railing. “Ah, so here’s my rival for Mila’s affection.”

The laugh pops out of Yuuri and he leans against bannister. “Emil’s an awful gossip.”

“Yeah...” Sara’s broad smile dims and she sighs, “Listen...”

Ciao Ciao slams the window open, “Hey! Haven’t you talked enough? Come back inside Katsuki.”

“It’s fine, really,” said Yuuri, embarrassed by the outburst.

“I thought you swore off kids, Ciao Ciao,” teased Sara.

 “Nice,” Sara smirks, “And here I thought you’d sworn off kids, Celestino.”

“Shove it,” said Ciao Ciao sourly, “I want him inside and asleep. He’s still a mess.”

The smile flickered, Sara moved to look at Yuuri. “Yeah, I noticed. What happened?” She gently touched the bandages over his jaw.

“Nothing, just a strain,” Yuuri’s jaw ached horribly, the tendons crackle under his skin. Pain medicine only dulling the edge.

She looks him over, “Well, at least you really do look like a prisoner.”

Yuuri feels faint. “I guess so.”

“Sorry, Ciao Ciao, but I’m afraid little Yuuri has a date with a very bad man.”

“You can come back inside,” said Ciao Ciao quietly.

Yuuri shook his head and followed Sara down the steps and towards central command.

“He needs to sort out his anger issues,” mumbled Yuuri.

“Definitely,” agrees Sara, she grew somber, “I know it’s short notice, I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine.” Yuuri dreads speaking with Yakov now, where once it was a comfort now Yuuri hated it.

 “You said you wanted this,” Sara touched his arm.

That was true, but Yuuri wishes it wasn’t. “Yes. Sorry, Yes.”

“Well,” said Sara, staring at him thoughtfully, “At least you won’t have to pretend to be upset.”

Yuuri swallows the panic down. His heart is fluttering high in his chest, whatever happens in front of Yakov today decides if he gets to go home to Phichit. To his real life. He can’t keep putting everyone in danger with his presence, even if he _did_ want to stay. “True.” His laughter sounds hollow and desperate.

“Don’t force yourself to go through with this, Yuuri. We could tell Yakov we killed you. Or something.”

“And that’ll be better for you?”

Sara shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

No, it’s too late to back out now, Yuuri _knows_ this, backing out now would bring Yakov’s wrath down on everyone. His skin feels cold even though he’s sweating. “No.”

Central command is full of people working and they walk past them all to a hallway that’s empty. The room Sara leads him into a room set up with a video camera and a view screen. Chris is behind a computer setting up the controls.

“Hey Yuuri!” Chris finished setting up and then reached over to tug on his ear, “I hear you’re playing the damsel in distress?”

Yuuri nods, unable to do more than that.

Chris curls his hand around Yuuri’s shoulder. “What’s going on. You look sick buddy, are you-“

“I’m fine!” snaps Yuuri, he takes a slow breath. “Sorry, I’m- It’s fine.” He tries to smile, but it feels stiff.

“Come on Chris,” mutters Sara, “Nothing to do here.”

Yuuri tries to think of something to say, to apologize, but he’s knee deep in his own head, too late to try and appease anyone else.

Lilia watches all this silently, her bright green eyes on Yuuri. It was easy to guess what she saw; a shaking, pathetic mess who was two seconds away from crawling under a table like a cowardly-

“Are you sure?” Lilia’s clipped voice gives Yuuri something to focus on.

Yuuri takes the seat in front of the computer, “You’re the third person to tell me that.” Lilia purses her lips.

“Am I now?” Lilia’s hand hovers over the computer, but doesn’t turn it on, “And that doesn’t tell you anything?”

“It tells me you think I can’t do this.” Yuuri grips the arms of the chair tightly.

Lilia’s lip curls, “If that’s what you want to believe, then so be it.”

What Yuuri hears is Lilia’s stone-chip voice daring him to prove her right, that Yuuri deserves to go back because he belongs next to Yakov. Not here.

It’s disorienting when Yakov’s face snaps into view. “Yuuri.” The relief is thick in Yakov’s voice. Lilia becomes a shadow against the far wall behind the computer. Yuuri can barely tear his eyes away from her.

“Y-Yakov. Uh, hi.”

“Are you alone?”

Yuuri shakes his head, movements jerky and uncoordinated. He sees Yakov take in his rumpled appearance, the bandages, the bags under his eyes. Yuuri knows he looks awful.

“Who’s in there? How many?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Another cool voice joins Yakov’s; Lilia narrows her eyes. Yuuri does too because he lost his glasses and can’t see for shit.

“S-sorry? I. . . can’t. They won’t let me.” He squints, makes out a business suit, an angled face, thin eyebrows, hair past shoulders.

“Shut up, Park,” snarls Yakov, “Give me a minute with him before you start your interrogation.”

Yuuri flinches at that. He sees Lilia shift along the wall, prowling from one corner to the other.

“Yuuri, calm down. What’s happened to you? Your face? Glasses? You look...” Yakov’s words are lost in a growl.

“My glasses. . . Broken.” Yuuri touches his face gingerly, the bridge of his nose. “I got- My face. It. . . I. . .”

Yuuri looks to Lilia for help and she shakes her head.

“It- It was m-my fault.” He lets the panic settle in his throat, an old friend Yuuri knows well. His words are too quiet, sounds unsure of himself. Perfect.

Park speaks again, “An accident? Can you take the bandage off? I’m curious.”

Yakov growls at the request, but Yuuri glances at Lilia for permission. She nods and he fumbles for a moment with the tape, wincing when it tugs on the tender skin.

“Oh my, those are very pretty scars,” Park’s voice cools Yuuri’s nerves. Park knows what she’s doing, she’s got this under control. Park speaks quickly, urgent purpose. “Yuuri, quickly. Give me information about where you are. Anything at-”

Lilia slams her fist on the table, still out of sight. Yuuri leaps from his chair, presses his back to the wall. He knows Lilia wouldn’t hurt him, hell she probably couldn’t. But she could have a gun, a knife, pepper spray, _anything._ His brain supplies fodder for the panic tearing him apart. _A taser._ An electric prod would be poetic justice. Yuuri edges along the wall, realizes he hasn’t been breathing properly. His vision is spotting.

The noises from the computer abruptly cut off when Lilia shuts the computer off. Yuuri slides to the ground, trying to control his breathing.

“Do you need anything?” Lilia stays on the other side of the table. Yuuri closes his eyes, she wouldn’t hurt him, she _wouldn’t_.

“A minute,” says Yuuri, “Just-“ He thought that talking to Yakov again would bring relief, but all he can think about is curling up on his shitty bed, listening to Ciao Ciao’s lawnmower snoring next door.

Yuuri waits to catch his breath before getting up and picking up the chair he’d thrown. Lilia eventually comes back with Sara, looking withdrawn instead of angry that Yuuri fucked up the meeting with Yakov.

“Do you know who the other woman was?”

Yuuri shook his head, “No. I’m sorry.”

“The demon didn’t sound happy about having that woman there either. I wonder who the hell she is,” said Lilia.

“What a waste,” muttered Yuuri.

“Oh he’ll call again,” said Sara, her face softening “Lilia says you put on quite a show. Even if that woman derailed everything, I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“I agree. Both the Park woman and the Demon believed Yuuri. They’ll call again.”

Sara sighed in relief, “Good work then. You might be able to convince them you’re not a huge traitor to your kind and go home.”

“Haaa,” said Yuuri weakly, “Right.”

Lilia started gathering up the computer, “If that’s all? You’re free to go.”

Looking at Sara, Yuuri was reminded of his conversation with Emil. He took a deep breath, “Sara, can I ask you a question? About your brother?”

Sara rustled her dark, tawny wings and regarded him in silence. “Give me a good reason for answering and I’ll think about it.”

Lilia paused, looking curiously at Yuuri, “What’s this about?”

Yuuri rubs his eyes. “It’s about an accident that occurred at the prison a few months before I started working there. It’s the reason I got hired in the first place. The ‘accident’- I’m not sure if it was a chemical spill, a gas leak, or an explosion. Something happened and both people and avians died. I think your brother as caught up in it. Do you know _anything_ about it?”

Sara looked away, scowling. Yuuri lowered his eyes, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me anything but the accident was bad enough that no coverage was ever allowed. Just covered up.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” She hugged herself, pausing for a moment before continuing, “But what I can tell you is that my brother was a hard-headed asshat who loved me very much. His entire goal in life was to protect me and I wouldn’t put it past him to pull an idiotic stunt like causing an explosion in a max security prison. That’s all I can give you. He was an idiot who thought he could save me from the world.” Sara’s eyes glittered dark and brittle, he smiled. “Although I can forgive the probing questions about my family, Katsuki, I’m afraid I cannot forgive your other misstep-“

Sara grinned at Yuuri’s wide eyes, the brown turning almost hazel in the harsh lighting.

“-trying to steal Mila from me, honestly, I ought to throw you into a cell.”

“Ooohh,” Yuuri laughed into his hands. Was it really that easy for Sara to turn the conversation? When he looked up Sara’s smile was genuine, real and soft. “I hate Emil.”

“Hah,” Sara leans against the wall and turns towards Lilia, “You don’t know anything about this accident? You should.”

Lilia’s gaze is icy when she glances at Sara. “I might. So you think this accident wasn’t an accident?”

“It _was_ an accident, on the prison’s part,” said Yuuri, looking at Sara briefly, “It wasn’t something orchestrated on their part; if it was, someone would have spun it to favor humans in the press. But there was nothing, not even a secondary byline in the newspaper.”

Lilia nods, “I see why you’re so intrigued.”

“Really?” asked Sara, wrinkling her nose, “It just sounds like a simple clusterfuck.”

“No,” said Lilia, “They do not make mistakes, not at that level.  If there was no media coverage then it _does_ sound like a cover-up, something went very wrong.”

“Yes!” Yuuri throws his hands out, “Yes! Yes! Thank you!” He can hardly believe that Lilia understands what he’s been trying to puzzle out. Why Yakov never talked about that incident, why everyone pretended it wasn’t a big deal. None of it ever made any sense and Lilia understands! “Do you know anything?”

“What are you going to do with the information?”

Yuuri drags his hand across his neck, “I don’t know. I have to know what I’m dealing with first. I have a friend who might know more, he’s always snooping in places he shouldn’t.”

“Why do you want to know? Why do you even care?” insists Lilia, her eyes hard.

Oh. She still thinks he might change his mind, Yuuri swallows the hurt in his throat. Lilia believes he wants to return with Yakov and continue at the prison. Yuuri stands up, “I understand. Sorry.” His heart is hammering and Yuuri hopes they don’t notice.

“Lilia,” said Sara sharply, “If you know something, just tell him.”

Lilia looks him down, not bothering to conceal her contempt, “ I know nothing. But if you find out anything useful, I hope you find it within yourself to let us know.”

“Of course,” said Yuuri, the words punching out of him, “Of course. I-“ He’s horrified Lilia would even think he wouldn’t, it’s a slap to the face. Yuuri’s face burns as Lilia marches out.

“Don’t take it to heart.” Sara motions him out of the room, “She’s old and ornery.”

True. But if Yuuri didn’t take things to heart he’d probably still be at the prison, no longer friends with Phichit, and pretending he didn’t see the obvious. He followed her, “Lilia.”

She stopped, those bright, flat eyes trained on him.

“You can’t possibly believe that I’d go back to Yakov-“

“There is nothing more for you to do here. Every day that you spend in this camp it’s a danger to us.”

Yuuri searched her face, “I know. But I can’t go back to the prison. I would never—”

“Wouldn’t you?” snarled Lilia, “That piece of shit was very worried for you. It was so _touching_.”

“No—“ protested Yuuri.

“You’re going to crawl right back in his lap. Do anything he requests.” Lilia takes a step forward, and Yuuri walks back. “I know exactly how this is going to play out. Because it’s how we _want_ it to pan out. Without your cooperation we won’t get the information we need to save more people, more avians.”

Yuuri whimpered when his back hit the wall.

“Enough!” Sara materialized, grabbing Yuuri and yanking him back. “Yuuri, you need to go.” She pushed him towards the exit.

“But she-!” Yuuri struggled against Sara’s grip, almost managing to get away. She pushed him again. Lilia turned away, walking out of reach.

“I know, but listen very carefully. Just _think_ for a moment Yuuri!” Sara was frustrated, “Do you think Lilia wants to hand you over to Yakov? Do you think she enjoys having to listen to his voice? Do you think this is any easier on her? She likes you.”

“I know.” Yuuri shocks himself, voicing the truth. He has friends here. Good friends. Lilia is just worried about him. “I’m sorry.”

“None of that,” said Sara roughly, “Just don’t forget next time, because there _will_ be a next time. Don’t forget that this is difficult for us too.”

“Yeah,” said Yuuri, subdued, “Yeah okay.”

...

Yuuri wanders aimlessly through the camp, finds himself in front of the comms building and opens the door. Chris is at the console and spares him only a glance. “Hiding from Lilia?”

“Sure,” said Yuuri. It was close to the truth anyway.

Yuri is no where to be found but Victor is curled up on the only couch, reading a fiction book.

“Why are you hiding,” Victor didn’t look up, even when Yuuri sat on the opposite side of the couch.

“I spoke to Yakov and some Park woman. It didn’t go that well.”

That got Victor’s attention, he snapped the book shut and focused on Yuuri, “Is that so. And as Yura so brashly revealed, are you seriously going to play spy?”

“Lilia seems to think so. She thinks I could help.”

“And you’re going to play along.” Victor levelled a disapproving gaze at him, “You don’t seem cut out for a life of lying. That’s me.”

“Oh yeah,” said Yuuri, rolling his eyes, “My mistake. Lilia must have mixed up our files.”

“Your grave,” said Victor mildly, picking his book back up, “What are you even supposed to do? Seduce the old fucker?”

“Language!” yelled Chris.

“When did you become so foul-mouthed,” asked Yuuri, dismayed at the change.

“Don’t give me that,” said Victor, “What other adjectives would you use for that old man?”

“Lilia calls him a demon,” said Yuuri and Victor chuckled.

“So what’s Lilia want from the demon.”

“Information. What else could she possibly want.”


	15. Grizzly bears and dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAhh!!!  
> Thank you for waiting!  
> I'm back in school so it's difficult to find time to edit.  
> Please enjoy!! :)))

“She can’t avoid it,” said Mila, trying to sound reasonable, “Even with what happened at that civ town, whatever it’s called. Besides, no one died.”

“Someone could have though,” said Yuuri, “I guess I’m just nervous of having an entire camp full of soldiers drunk at one time.”

“Not everyone’s going to drink. And you’re always nervous anyways-“

“Not always,” retorted Yuuri, “Just when someone could get hurt.”

“But you’ll be here to patch us up, right Yuuri?” Mila cooed, slinging an arm around Yuuri. “Come on,” she cajoled, jostling him, “Don’t be a party pooper, literally.”

“It’s not like I can stop them,” grumbled Yuuri, “If they want to throw Lilia a party, they’ll do it.”

They both flinch when Victor bounces in between them, crowing, “ _Yuuri!_ ”

“Oh God,” Yuuri muttered, hunching his shoulders.

Mila looks at Victor’s mischief-carved face and then at Yuuri. “Do I need to protect you? Is Victor still trying to kill you?”

“Not physically,” muttered Yuuri, which made Victor laugh _way_ too loudly.

“No no,” he assured Mila, keeping his voice light “This is just a little...joke? Yes. A joke.”

Yuuri clutched Mila’s jacket, “Save me,” he whispered.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” said Victor, trying to sound bracing but ends up slightly threatening.

“You’re just mad you like trashy books,” said Yuuri, “and that you’re a terrible dancer.” Mila wriggled away from, forsaking him.

Mila ‘oohed’ at them. “Victor you gonna let Yuuri just _trash_ talk you like that? I’ve seen you dance, you’re a lovely dancer.”

Victor visibly blanched, his hands curling. A bit of viciousness peeked out of him, “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

Mila cocked her hip and keeping her gaze squarely on Victor, stepped off into a graceful waltz, cranking her head around to keep him in view. Yuuri squeaked and covered his mouth.

With a shout of laughter, Victor dove for Mila, hand almost closing on her shoulder.

“Run!” shrieked Mila, shoving Yuuri into a stumbling run. Yuuri yelped at feeling fingers scrambling for his sweater. Mila is quicksilver and easily outstripped him, but Yuuri doggedly remains on her trail. She skids around a corner and Yuuri barely has time to round the corner too, breath hot in his mouth, to see Mila on the floor. Another avian on the floor too. Bags scattered everywhere.

Yuuri’s body reacts before his brain can understand. Yuuri launches himself back, muscles coiling and releasing just as Victor turns the corner too.

Victor slams into him at full-tilt, jarring Yuuri’s skull as they go down, shouting. Dazed, Yuuri can’t do more than try to reinflate his lungs while Victor scolds him until Yuuri starts coughing and Mila starts yelling at Victor.

Mila pats his face, sharp bracing slaps until Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m not hurt,” he wheezes, eyes streaming.

“You just took a bear to the face,” said Mila severely, face pinched into a frown, ignoring the protests of the man _she’d_ knocked over.

“Hey!” said Victor, his grip on Yuuri’s arm is almost painful, “Rude!”

“And not like....  cute little black bear either. You just got mauled by a grizzly.”

Yuuri doesn’t bother saying anything in response as Victor drags him upright, patting him. “Alright, that’s enough coughing. You’re fine. You’re fine.” Yuuri wishes he could say something scathing, but his lungs are still rebooting and his eyes won’t stop flooding.

 _Then_ Mila remembers that she knocked someone over and the man guilt-trips Mila into helping him carry his things, claiming a weak arm and bad knees.

“You two can help,” said Mila stoutly.

Yuuri just coughed louder, willing his eyes to water more. He sagged against Victor.

“Ooh, no can do Mils. I have to take poor Yuuri to uh- get his lungs checked out for bruising,” said Victor earnestly, eyes bright and firm, “After, you know, getting mauled by a polar bear.”

Yuuri covers his laughter with a hand and a cough as they make good on their escape. When Victor relinquishes his hold, Yuuri rubs feeling back into his arm.

“Grizzly,” said Yuuri, the non-sequitur catching Victor off-guard as they speed walk away. Where, Victor isn’t sure, but as long as he isn’t helping a grouchy old man with his errands, it doesn’t matter. In all likelihood, Yuuri’s going back to the clinic. The man’s like a clock-work toy, following the same paths every day; from what Victor knows, Yuuri hardly deviates from his schedule.

“I beg your pardon?”

Yuuri’s sloping black eyebrows climb up, but he doesn’t comment on Victor’s formal choice of words. “Mila called you a grizzly, not a polar bear.”

“I know that,” said Victor dismissively, “But polar bears are more me. Grizzlies are...”

“Scary?” said Yuuri, although he’s unsmiling, there’s a teasing glint in his eye.

It wasn’t what Victor was thinking, but he uses it to segue into a different topic. “I assume you were hiding from Lilia for an important reason, and not just because she’s scary.”

Yuuri groans before pointedly looking away.

“I love guessing games,” said Victor brightly, tapping his lips, “Let’s see.”

Like a dog with a bone thinks Yuuri in despair. “I spoke to Yakov. I’m going home soon.” He tries to keep his voice neutral. “I hope. A month at most.” He grimaced at the tree tops in the distance, their peaceful green felt like a taunt.

“Why do you still want to go back to him?” Victor couldn’t be bothered to hide his frustration.

“It’s not Yakov,” said Yuuri, keeping his voice low, afraid to summon the man by just saying his name. He doesn’t look at Victor, keeps his eyes down and his words to himself, his jaw aches from not screaming. With the clinic in sight he stops, rocking on his heels. He wants to go _home_ , he needs to know that Phichit is alive and eating! He doesn’t want to be here anymore and every day spent in the camp chafes him raw, “It’s Phichit. He’s alone.” The waver in his voice forces Yuuri to swallow the rest of his words, the ache too big to allow words through, it’s a snarl Yuuri doesn’t even want to poke.

“Ah,” said Victor, cocking his head, smiling, “Him. I liked him- A tragedy wrapped in good intentions.”  It feels apt for Phichit, but he realizes the mistake when he looks at Yuuri, who looks like he’s been forced to watch his dog die. Teeth bared in a pained grimace.

“Oh, I-“ Victor presses his tongue up into his palate, unsure.

But the apology is rejected before Victor can even think to give it. Yuuri glares at Victor, pressing his hands flat to his stomach; Phichit isn’t a joke. He’s Yuuri’s best friend and he’s suffering.

“Yuuri, I-“

And then Yuuri swears at him and takes off, slamming the clinic’s door behind him.

“Shit.” Victor hadn’t meant to do that, he was just trying to be clever. For some goddamned reason. “Damn it.” He trudges up the steps, tries the door. Locked. Obviously.

“Yuuri, open up. I didn’t mean it. Like that.” He waits a second but there’s no sound of anyone opening the door. He grumbles to himself.

“Sorry!” He yells through the door, and stalks off.

...

Ciao Ciao finds him with his face in a bundle of gauze.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Ciao Ciao stands in front of him, towering and fat and still too loud, all the time. But right now Ciao Ciao is a quiet rumble of impatience. “Are- Are you crying?”

Yuuri shakes his head, not lifting his face from the gauze. He hears Ciao Ciao drag a box over, hears the crackle of plastic as Ciao Ciao sits his weight down. The fluorescents are too bright, they make Yuuri’s stomach churn.

“You’re going to break it.” Yuuri lifts his face at last, squints at his teacher in the garish light. Ciao Ciao sighs, drums his fingers on his thigh; he sees Yuuri’s red eyes, dried out from crying, the uneven breathing. The gauze is wet.

“What’s wrong.”

There’s no reason to hide from Ciao Ciao, the man hates spreading gossip for all that he loves hearing it, and more importantly he lets Yuuri sleep in late during the mornings and tries to schedule him for night shifts only. Yuuri absently unrolls the gauze, the tiny ridges of his skin catching on the thin fibers. “I just... I’m worried for my friend back home- he’s still in the city.” He fidgets, finally realizing how cold he is, how cold the basement is. It’s freezing down here. His back is tight and his nose is dripping from the cold, he uses the gauze to dab at his eyes and wipe the snot away. “It’s a long story.”

Ciao Ciao looks down at him, “You see me going anywhere?”

Yuuri’s smile is fragile, “No.” And Ciao Ciao listens patiently to what Yuuri tells him. Yuuri tells him a lot and Ciao Ciao traces the story with his expressions. And at the end he stares at Yuuri with a new light.

“You were an idiot,” he said flatly, “Good thing you are here now. I am glad you...decided to leave the city.” Ciao Ciao tips his head, icily regarding the scars on Yuuri’s jaw. “I wish now more than ever I could do something about that. It’s ugly.”

His hand flies up to cup his jaw, Yuuri wants to retort, that no, it’s more kindness than what he deserved. It’s different _now_ , but at the time... Yuuri’s memory is spotty, just a white-out noise of pain and fear. His stomach churns unpleasantly, like he’s about to throw up.

Instead of trying to explain himself, he said, “It’s fine. It’s done.”

“That it is,” agrees Ciao Ciao, he heaves a sigh, regarding Yuuri. “Well. I came looking because there’s a civ camp being built, a hop-skip-jump from the slums. Lilia says they need a medic there, permanently. Gee, I wonder why she would want _you_ so close to Met-Sig.” His sarcasm elicits a wobbly smile from Yuuri.

“Ah, so that’s where they’re planning on doing the tradeoff,” Yuuri tried to blow his nose on the wet gauze with mixed results.

Ciao Ciao grunted, “Probably. It would make things easier on both sides. Does that make you nervous?”

“Too tired to be nervous right now,” said Yuuri, “When am I going?”

“Not for a few days, probably after Lilia’s ‘surprise birthday dinner’.” Ciao Ciao snorted, “I can’t believe she’s allowing this. Well, maybe I can. She certainly deserves a nice celebration after surviving the avian prison.”

Yuuri nodded, the exhaustion had caught up to him. His limbs felt heavy, he squinted against the light.

“Go on and sleep. You can switch shifts with Mila. Let her do night shift this once. Agreed?”

...

The clinic is quiet at the early predawn hours, four patients, all stable and talking amongst themselves. The full night’s sleep had cleared up Yuuri’s head, he felt a little foolish but at peace. The patients quietly listen to music or watch months-old pre-recorded shows on their personal computers.

When the front door opens Yuuri assumes it’s not an emergency since no one is screaming for help. “Ciao Ciao’s asleep. So if you want to talk with him, it’ll have to wait until 8.” He’s sitting at the desk that faces away from the front door, he has to twist around to greet the visitor politely.

“Hey.” Victor stands there stiffly, for once in his life looking awkward. The door shuts with the quiet hiss of the pneumatic joints. “Listen-“

“It’s fine,” interrupts Yuuri, “I heard you yell through the door. You don’t have to say it again.”

“Right.” Victor looks around the quiet clinic, all the patients have flicked their curtains open, their attention bouncing from Victor to Yuuri. “Is there like an office or something? Private?”

Yuuri glances at his patients who are clearly listening in. There isn’t, not unless they want to sit in the freezing basement. “Not really.” Instead, Yuuri leads him towards the back where Ciao Ciao had an impromptu cubicle constructed out of small carboard boxes. The boxes are stacked to the ceiling, forming a three sided fort. Even though Yuuri had hounded Ciao Ciao about safety, the boxes have yet to be moved. There aren’t any chairs so Yuuri sits on a shorter stack of boxes and Victor copies him, hands rubbing nervously over his knees.

Yuuri sticks his head out of the fort and sees four pairs of eyes blinking back at him in the dim light. “This is a private conversation.” And he’s satisfied with the giggling and subsequent sound of curtains closing. At least his patients would pretend not to eavesdrop, that’s something.

Victor chuckles and then quickly stops, looking guilty. “I shouldn’t have said those things. About your- About him.”

It’s like a knife to the tentative good mood, it’s all Yuuri can do to keep from just getting up and leaving. “No, you shouldn’t have. But you apologized.”

“I- yeah,” Victor twitches, bringing his hand to rub his arm.

“Why-“ Yuuri stops. He wants Victor to leave, he wants to go back to reading his journal.

“I wonder what Lilia thinks of her surprise party,” said Victor, clumsily changing the subject, “I wonder if it’s even a good idea to hold a party. I’m not ready for it,” he admits. He’s smiling, but it’s uncertain, and Yuuri realizes that Victor is sincerely nervous and remorseful.

Yuuri tugs on his hair, it’s ridiculously long now. Curling past his ears. “Me neither. But as long as the Red Guard doesn’t show up, I guess it’ll be okay.”

They lapse into silence. Yuuri wishes Victor would just go, why was he still sitting here? It’s too awful, the silence even worse than talking about the Red Guard. Yuuri leaps to his feet, startling Victor.

“Oh, do you need to go?” asked Victor, and Yuuri could have sworn he’s disappointed.

Yuuri peeks around the wall of stacked cardboard, sees all four patients trying to eavesdrop. Scowling, he turns back to Victor who’s also peering to the nosy eavesdroppers.

“No privacy,” quipped Victor.

It wasn’t surprising to Yuuri, “Ah, you don’t know? Small town, big hell. Lots of talk.”

Victor smiles, “Heh. Makes sense.”

Yuuri drops his full weight on his cardboard chair, the cardboard buckles and crumples under his weight, pitching him backward into the _fucking_ flimsy wall of more cardboard. He tries to right himself, kicks his legs out, nailing Victor right in the shins. Victor goes down squawking in pain and surprise; the whole fort crashes on their heads, boxes hitting their shoulders and backs.

“Victor!” Frantically, Yuuri kicks and punches the stupid boxes off of him.

Victor bursts out laughing, even if he’s on the floor, one of the boxes burst open and Victor picks up the little packets of- what are these? Bandages? He grins at Yuuri.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri flails until he can press a hand to Victor’s arm, “Are-“

Victor keeps laughing and Yuuri sighs, pulling boxes off of him. Two of his patients run over and help clear a path for them. Yuuri tries pulling Victor up, but he just rolls onto his stomach, giggling like crazy.

“Thank you, it’s alright. Go back to bed. Thank you.” Yuuri shoos his patients away.

“Owww, my shin bones...” whines Victor, still curled up and giggling. It’s impossible to not smile.

“Okay, up up. The floor’s dirty,” said Yuuri calmly, afraid to trigger another bout of laughter.

Victor sits up, looks at the mess, ”Your fort got destroyed.”

“Good,” said Yuuri fiercely, still trying to haul Victor upright, “The stupid construct was one big safety hazard anyway.” He tries to scrape his hair back.

“Just don’t sit on them anymore,” said Victor, his eyes glittering, “Piggy.” He reached out to poke Yuuri’s ribs, surprised when Yuuri doesn’t squeal and just gives him this haughty look. “Damn,” Victor softly thumps his fist on the floor before getting up, “You’re not ticklish.”

“Not with an older sister,” replied Yuuri curtly. And Victor is fascinated with this tidbit, it’s a little difficult to imagine Yuuri with a family, he didn’t look like someone who’d dealt with siblings. Not that Victor would know.

“I can’t imagine you with a family,” said Victor absently, shoving boxes out of his way.

“Me either,” said Yuuri.

Although there was no heat in the words, Victor sensed the fatalism implied. “Should I not have said that?” he asked.

“I doubt you’ll ever stop saying things you shouldn’t,” said Yuuri, dismissing Victor with a shrug. “You’re not one to think things through are you?”

Victor almost bit his tongue off. “And to think I was worried about your delicate feelings.” His laughter was sharp, Yuuri braced himself for whatever cruel thing he was about to hear. “No matter. You won’t be here long enough to matter.”

Yup. There is was. The boxes were out of the way, Yuuri slowly straightened his coat before looking at Victor. A plastic smile to rival any doll’s greeted him, Yuuri shook his head.

“Then why did you come apologize at all,” Yuuri snipped, “If you’re just here to be unpleasant-“

“I’m not,” interrupted Victor, looking embarrassed of all things, “You’re just-“

“ _Me?”_ hissed Yuuri, “That’s rich!” He kicked a box out of the way, Victor was the one coming in, intruding. Saying cruel things.

“Oh shut up,” said Victor, kicking one of the boxes at Yuuri. “Don’t pretend like I’m actually hurting your feelings.”

“Asshole!” yelped Yuuri as the box hit him, bursting open. Yuuri dove for the packets and flung them at Victor, “Bastard! Asshole!”

Victor deftly caught the packets and pelted them back. “Bumbling idiot! Naive! _Stupid!_ ” He squeaked when Yuuri hit his nose.

Yuuri cracked. “Y-you’re ridiculous!” He giggled even when Victor didn’t let up, continuing to hit him with tiny paper packages of gauze. He collapsed against the boxes, laughing, resorting to shrieking when Victor upended an entire box of them over him.

Steps thundering down the stairs froze both of them.

Both Ciao Ciao and Mila gaped at them.

“Yuuri?”

“I-I’m fine!” Yuuri giggled, he didn’t dare look at Victor, “It’s alright.”

“Are you sure?” Mila was looking over Yuuri’s head. Hastily, Yuuri scrambled upright, bumping into Victor as he stood.

“Yes,” Yuuri had a packet of gauze in his hands and he threw it at Victor. “This is just- um.”

Ciao Ciao grunted and left, but Mila took another moment to sweep her eyes across the room before leaving.

“Well I hope you’re happy,” said Yuuri once it was quiet again, “Now you’ve got to clean this mess up.”

“Like hell I’m cleaning this up!” said Victor indignantly, “I’ll help, but not if you’re sitting on your ass.”

Yuuri threw his arms out and let himself fall back onto the crushed stack of cardboard, “I think I _will_ just sit on my ass.” It was uncomfortable, sharp corners digging into his butt and back, but he grinned up at Victor.

There was a moment where Yuuri wasn’t sure what Victor would do, so when he flopped down next to him, all spidery limbs and half-chastised, Yuuri snorted.

“Your throne is very uncomfortable,” said Victor, shifting about.

“Power is not meant to be comfortable,” said Yuuri, stroking his chin as if he had a wise old man’s beard.

Victor tipped his head back, chuckling, “I suppose not. It’s meant to be unstable and precarious, like our throne.”

“No no no!” cried Yuuri, “ _I’m_ playing the wise king.”

“Oh,” said Victor, lifting an elegant eyebrow, “And who am I suppose to play.”

“The fool,” said Yuuri immediately. Without a change in expression, Victor grabbed a loose box and threw it at Yuuri.

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt... what ever this is,” a patient had hobbled over on a crutch, his ankle swaddled. “But my leg’s starting to hurt fierce. Feels like fire.”

Without warning, Yuuri flailed off the stack of boxes and Victor was dumped onto the floor.

“Oh, Victor, get off the floor,” scolded Yuuri, “It’s dirty.”

It almost tricked Victor, the retort was on his lips, but he looked up and found Yuuri smirking down at him.

“And start picking up these gauze packets,” continued Yuuri, still pretending to scold Victor.

“Oh yes, your highness,” sneered Victor, throwing a packet at his head. Yuuri ducked away and stuck his tongue out at the taunt.

Victor relaxed back onto the floor, grinning. He sighed and propped his elbow on his knee, there was no clock on the wall. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but it wasn’t an alarming thought. It was early though, enough that both Mila and Ciao Ciao were asleep. Victor yawned and his eyes fluttered closed as he tried to remember what he’d done with his day.

“You’re tired, go home, Victor.” Yuuri’s soft voice cut through Victor’s fog, feels fingers gently touch the edge of his temple.

It was a momentary touch, but Victor still jerked back. Yuuri flinched too, yanking his arm out of the way, looking injured. Victor tried to salvage the situation. “Don’t think you’re going to get away from calling me the buffoon, Katsuki.” His voice felt thick and he tried to yawn it away, “Sorry, it’s past my bedtime.”

“Bedtime?” Yuuri’s lips twitched, “Like a child? You know who else has a bedtime? Yura.”

“All good boys have a bed time,” said Victor haughtily.

“And all good men?” asked Yuuri softly, his grin turning the words into a teasing jab.

That comment stumped Victor so he shrugged and continued cleaning up, Yuuri knelt next to him, helping.

“Well I hope you’re happy,” sighed Yuuri, “I’ve already accepted our fate.”

“Huh?” Victor paused in returning the gauze packets to a box, “What are you blabbering on about?”

Yuuri pressed a fist to the underside of his chin, pretending to mull over his words, “It’ll be all over camp by mid morning. No thanks to your rash actions.”

 _“What_ are you talking about?” asked Victor, throwing a packet at Yuuri and missing.

“I’m talking about how everyone’s going to be gossiping about the flirting.”

Victor gaped at Yuuri, “ _Flirting?”_

“Either that or-“

“What?” asked Victor, bewildered. Flirting? “Plus, we – I mean I wasn’t- and-“

Yuuri tsked at him in disappointment, “You’ve never lived in a small community, have you? Remember what I said? Little town, big hell.”

Victor caught on, “Oh, damn... We’re going to be everyone’s entertainment for weeks.”

“Probably,” admitted Yuuri, “If nothing else exciting happens.” Victor gave him a weary look and then covered his face, flopping down to the floor.

“Put me out of my misery.” moaned Victor

“Don’t be a baby,” admonished Yuuri. Victor sighed and sat up, Yuuri wasn’t looking at him, busy trying to pick up the mess they made.

“Are you really going to do it?” asked Victor, shuffling to help straighten the boxes.

“Do what?”

“Go back.”

Yuuri turned towards him, eyes narrowed, but found Victor looking at him blandly, no accusation in his voice or eyes. He only was asking, and nothing else, not demanding answers or wheedling Yuuri for an answer he wanted.

“You really want me to stay that badly?” mused Yuuri, angling to tease Victor, hoping to distract him. Yuuri didn’t want more people to side eye him, or scowl at him, He had enough of that, he wanted to be left alone with his choice.

“Well,” sighed Victor, stretching his legs out on the floor, regarding the mess they made. “I just want to make sure you’re not making a choice based on guilt or feeling like you don’t belong here. And,” he added lightly, “this is the most fun I’ve had this entire time. Whether we get gossiped about or not. Oh!” Victor grinned thinly at Yuuri.

“What?” Yuuri knew that look, it was nothing but trouble.

“We should pretend to date. _That_ would be funny.”

Yuuri laughed, “No! Absolutely not!”

“Spoilsport,” pouted Victor, “It would be funny.”

“It would,” agreed Yuuri, “But I don’t think I could survive the teasing.”

Victor giggled and Yuuri gave him a questioning glance. “It’s just- It would have been so funny. Are you sure-“

“If you tell people we’re dating I’m going to put laxatives in your food,” said Yuuri flatly and Victor just looked at him serenely. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, I’ll defer to the king,” said Victor, gallantly tipping his head.

Yuuri wrinkled his nose at Victor, who wrinkled his own nose back, grinning.

...

After that, Yuuri found himself seeking out Victor’s company, whether for a few minutes after his shift or sitting next to him when everyone gathered for lunch or dinner. Victor also sought out his company, even if Yuuri doubted it was anything more than Victor being bored out of him mind.

 So it was confusing when Victor wheedled him into doing favors or when Victor came by and helped Yuuri with chores unasked. It was too friendly to be a something borne purely out of convenience, but Yuuri didn’t allow himself to think too hard about it. One evening, Yuuri sat out on the porch of the clinic, mind a comfortable mush, drinking coffee when Victor walked up.

“Where’s my cup?” he asked cheerfully, “Did you make enough?”

Yuuri dragged himself back, blinking slowly and looking at Victor leaning on the porch railing.

“There’s a pot,” said Yuuri at last, “Sugar?”

Victor nodded and settled into another chair and patiently waited for his coffee.

“Mmm,” said Victor with his coffee in hand, “I love being awake.”

Yuuri grinned, “Not me. I could sleep the whole day away.”

The coffee was good and Victor melted into his chair, sighing happily. “Heard anything?”

It was always the first question Victor asked him, even after almost a week of the same ‘no’ Yuuri kept giving him. At first the questions had made Yuuri uncomfortable, but now he expected it. “Yes, actually.”

Victor was half asleep, the rising sun gilding his face in the cold hues of late dawn, now he snapped awake, sitting up. “And?”

Yuuri was afraid the coffee mug, precious fragile ceramic would break in Victor’s hand. “It’s all arranged. Not that they’ve told me anything useful. But Sara and Lilia know. So I just have to wait.” Coffee was suddenly unappetizing, Yuuri set his mug down on the floor and slumped against the chair. “It’s soon though.”

Victor nodded, grimacing and putting his mug down too. “Well,” he said roughly, “You still have time to change your mind.”

“Hah, yeah okay.” Yuuri looked at him askance, “You’re not planning something weird are you?”

“Who? Me?” asked Victor, scandalized at the accusation, all sugared honey. A moment later he dropped the act. “You should stay.”

“Phichit.”

“I know,” said Victor gently, “I’m just saying that you don’t have to leave. You’re welcome here. You know that, right?”

“I know,” said Yuuri stiffy.

“Do you,” said Victor, his voice edging on sarcastic, “I wonder.”

Yuuri grimaced and picked his coffee back up, taking a sip to hide his confusion. Usually they talk the entre time they’re together, but now Victor is quiet and Yuuri is too nervous to break the silence. He’d wanted to ask Victor about the trees in this part of the country. It wasn’t an important topic, just something to fill the time, but Victor looks too tense, any attempt at conversation would be forced back to what Victor wanted to talk about. Yuuri sighed.

“What?” asked Victor, looking belligerent, eyebrows drawn down, frown evident even when he took a drink.

“Nothing,” said Yuuri just as tersely, “I just hoped we could have a normal conversation, but you’re not going to let that happen, are you?” He swiped his tongue along the roof of his mouth, the pressure preventing more honest things from escaping him.

“I’m just frustrated with your decision,” said Victor, “Because you know Yakov-“

“He’s _irrelevant_ ,” hissed Yuuri, standing up, clutching his empty mug tightly, “I’m tired of talking about this! You think I’m just going to go back and be able to ignore everything? To act like nothing happened?” Yuuri knew Victor didn’t, but Victor wasn’t saying _something_ and the only way to get it out of him was to be rude. “I thought we- I _think_ you’re my friend-“

“I am!” said Victor, surging out of his chair, which was unfair because Victor was taller. Only by a few inches, but it was enough to make a difference. “You’re pretty much the only person that isn’t boring here-“

“Agh!” Yuuri shoved past him, cheeks burning, he didn’t want compliments, he wanted the truth. The clinic wasn’t empty, there were patients, Yuuri hurried past them, heard Victor come after him.

“Yuuri.”

The stairs creaked under his feet, Yuuri ignored Victor’s quiet call. Didn’t stop until he reached the upstairs kitchen, empty, thank goodness.

“What are you really worried about?” demanded Yuuri, “Forget Yakov. Forget the prison. I’m not going back, you know that, so don’t insult me. What do you really want?”

Victor froze, coffee staining the outside of the mug and dripping down his fingers. He focused on Yuuri. “ _I want_ you to realize that going back isn’t going to make things better for you- or Phichit,” he overrode Yuuri’s protests, “You’re doing good work here. But if you go back? Nothing. Nothing! You get twitchy if you go five minutes without doing work-“

Relieved that Victor really wasn’t worried about him going back to the prison after all, because despite Yuuri’s words, the thought had still niggled in the back of his mind, wearing a thin and vicious hurt in him. No no, it wasn’t that. Victor didn’t want his skills to go to waste. What he said was true enough. Yuuri gave him a tired smile. “You’re nosy.”

To his surprise, Victor blushed. “I am not.”

“And your nose is big too.” Yuuri held his hand out. Scowling, Victor handed over his cold mug. Victor stepped up to the sink and briefly rinsed his hands.

Yuuri bit his tongue when Victor touched his own nose.

“I’ll see myself out,” said Victor, “Have a good shift. Don’t kill anyone.”

“I won’t,” said Yuuri, feeling a strange giddiness climb over him, he watched Victor back out of the room before calling out. “Lunch?”

“Yeah.” Victor glanced one last time at him, his eyes washed out in the early morning light. But Yuuri knew they were a dark blue in certain light too. He leaned against the counter, frowning, drumming his fingers on the formica.


	16. The Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a week free of school so I had time to crank this chapter out!  
> Thanks for reading!! :)))  
> Thanks for the comments and kudos <3

“Katsuki. Here you are.”

Yuuri looked up from contemplating his coffee to see Lilia standing in Ciao Ciao’s kitchen. Yuuri had to do a double take at the image of that: thin bundle of wiry muscle that was Lilia standing in the disaster of this kitchen. Yuuri shot to his feet, stammering out questions and excuses.

Lilia held out a hand, and Yuuri screeched to a halt as if he’d run into a wall. “Um?”

“There isn’t an emergency. I simply wanted to talk about the party occurring tonight. Ciao Ciao informed me you pulled the short straw for clinic duty.”

“Um. Yeah. Yes. Ma’am.”

Lilia’s jaw jumped as if she were trying not to laugh. She took a cautious step forward, “May I-?”

“Yes! Coffee?” Yuuri scrambled for a mug when Lilia nodded and took a seat.

“You wanted to talk about the party?” Yuuri asked after carefully settling a hot mug in front of Lilia. “Anything else? While we’re alone?” He nervously stared at his own coffee.

Lilia gave him an appreciative look, curling her fingers around the handle of her mug and turned it to some unknown but specified angle before taking a long drink. “Yes.” How she managed to not burn her tongue or throat Yuuri had no idea. He took a small sip of his own cup, suddenly too wired to need the caffeine.

“When?” he asked abruptly, the uncertainty was a hot knife twisting in his throat, “When do I leave?” He blew out a hot breath.

“There’ll be a caravan headed through this area in a couple of days. You and Chris, among others, will hitch a ride with them. You’ll be headed back to the slums, not uncharted territory for you.”

“Oh... okay,” said Yuuri, feeling some strange relief, “And then?”

“The hand-off? It’ll happen there. On neutral ground.” Lilia shifted in her seat, tapped a finger on the back of her hand. “How do you feel about that?”

“Um, does it matter?” Yuuri stammered, spreading his fingers over the warmth of his mug, “Now, the party-“

“One moment,” said Lilia, pressing her hand on the table, “Once inside Met-Sig you’ll make contact with our mole.”

“Mole?! You have a mole?” asked Yuuri weakly, of course they did. This was war, after all.

“I’ve never met them. But the mole will put you in contact with the Nishigoris, you remember?” Lilia’s face suggested that she did not expect him to do such a thing.

“They’re the parents whose children were-” Yuuri pursed his lips together, “taken by the government for- for-“

“Scientific research,” said Lilia coolly, tawny wings shifting restlessly, “Not unlike us.”

“R-right.” Yuuri wondered if his coffee was still hot enough to burn his throat, “I don’t understand, what’s the point?”

“You’ll make contact with us once you’ve secured the Nishigoris. We’ll look at the information we have and improvise.” Lilia narrowed her eyes, “Do you understand now?”

Of course he did, Yuuri curled his tongue up into the roof of his mouth. “I meant- What’s the point of making contact?”

“The point is we get information to stop this war. Somehow.”

Yuuri nodded, stopping the war completely? That would take a miracle. Or something horribly drastic.

Yuuri looked away and sighed, “Okay. That makes sense. Now what?”

“Now you pack and get ready. You’re going to set up a new clinic over there as your cover. But in the meantime-” said Lilia, breaking out a small smile, “The party. People will be drunk and tomorrow they’ll be hung over. This isn’t a civilian camp, we don’t have the luxury of off-days.”

“Hang over cures.” Yuuri replied, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. Annoying to make, and only good if made and used fresh.

“A large batch. Chris-“ Lilia grimaced in distaste, “informed other camps and towns about this party.”

Yuuri groaned, covering his face. “Extra large batch then. Fuck Chris.” He popped up, surprised when he heard a small laugh from across the table, but by the time he looked at Lilia, any trace of a smile was gone and she was finishing her coffee.

“Wait... wasn’t this party suppose to be a surprise? For you?”

Anyone less poised than Lilia would have rolled their eyes, she just blinked for a few seconds too long. “I’m sure they tried their best. Good bye.”

“Bye...”

Yuuri slumped over the kitchen table as soon as Lilia was gone, the tension draining him and leaving him more exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept at all. Two days. That’s all he had left here.

“Yuuri? I saw Lilia go through-”

“Mila!” He scrambled upright, startling her. “We have to get started!”

“Wiiith...?” Bemused, Mila allowed Yuuri to drag her back down the stairs.

“We’re going to be swamped,” explained Yuuri, panicking even as he explained the situation and Mila gallantly did not run for the hills. She did scream when he mentioned she might have to miss the beginning of the party if they didn’t hurry.

...

“Yuuri, you can go outside you know. You’re not actually-“ Mila bit off the rest of her sentence. The hangover cures were cooking in the basement and would be ready by that afternoon, leaving Mila and Yuuri to watch the parade of visitors from the windows. If Mila was as exhausted as Yuuri felt, he wouldn’t blame her for being angry with him or if she skipped the party altogether.

“I know,” said Yuuri, dispelling the tension in Mila’s shoulders. He knew he wasn’t a prisoner, not by a longshot. “I just- No. I’m okay here.”

Starting mid-morning, avians and humans started trickling in to camp, gossiping and mingling with everyone. Otabek had snuck away from the crowds and sat with them for a couple of hours before being called away; Mila had laughed at how resigned Otabek had looked.

“Seriously,” said Mila, interrupting Yuuri’s thoughts, “I’m not going to hang around here once the party really starts, so you’d better stretch your legs while you have the chance. No leaving your post after that.”

Mila’s mock seriousness made Yuuri smile and melted his resolve. He hops off the desk and dusts his jeans from imaginary dirt. “Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.”

“Not unless they ask for it,” she replied cheerfully.

...

Instead of heading straight to the comms building, Yuuri veered off towards the mess hall realizing he’d skipped breakfast and was _starving_. One measly cup of coffee drunk in a rush wasn’t a real meal. In the mess hall there were more people milling around than wandering the streets, it made him nervous. He edged around the room, threading his way through the crowds that were chattering excitedly.

“Hey! Barely getting out of bed? Lazy.” Chris emerged from the crowds and followed Yuuri to the food line. After an awkward pause where Yuuri squirmed under Chris’ unexpected scrutiny, Chris said, “Lilia talked to you? About leaving?” He handed Yuuri a tray and nudged him towards the line of people waiting for food.

“You know about that? It was... weird. But also to make a ton more hangover cures. Heh.”

Chris waved his tray around like an oversized fan. “ Oh yeah, she was pissed at me for inviting so many people to celebrate with us,” his smile sharpened, “so she decided to ship me off with you. Weird isn’t what I’d call her. Petty. Malicious, even.”

Yuuri hid his shock behind his tray, but had to relinquish his shield to get his food. “You’re... angry about that. Why?” Maybe because it was so late in the year, Chris wouldn’t be back by spring. “You should be back in a few months.”

Chris grunted. “I’m not being sent to keep you company. I’m going to start and manage a relay station that’s being set up using Miss Yang’s resources. It’s a permanent move,” said Chris bitterly.

“Oh.” Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say, but the pique and irritation on Chris’ face staved off any clichéd phrases that wanted to jump from Yuuri’s tongue. “That’s-“

“Don’t,” said Chris, “I don’t want to hear it. All I want to achieve today is to get plastered and forget about going to the slums.”

Rebuffed and feeling that somehow this was his fault, Yuuri quickly excused himself, leaving Chris to eat in the mess hall. Instead of heading back to the clinic, Yuuri made his way to the comms building.

“Hello? Victor?,” The main room is bright with early afternoon sunlight striking off screens and bits of computer parts. “Oh hello Yuri.”

Victor looks up from the screen he’s working on, “Hi! Come to share your food?”

“No,” said Yuuri, dropping into the chair next to Yuri, “I just came here to get away from Chris.”

Yuri’s head snapped up, he’d ignored the initial greeting, focused on reading from the manual in his hands. Now he reached over and stole a potato from Yuuri’s plate, popping it into his mouth. “That dumbass still moping? He’s known for a while, but _now_ he’s mad about it?”

“Wait... How do _you-_ But since when has Chris-?” Yuuri was too distracted and surprised to stop Yuri from grabbing his fork and stealing more of food. “Chris _knew_? How long?”

“What’s going on with Chris?” Victor peered at Yuuri curiously, turning the chair.

“He’s an idiot,” said Yuri, stabbing the eggs in emphasis. Victor looked at Yuuri in confusion.

“Care to explain?”

“No time,” said Yuuri, sliding his tray onto Yuri’s work table and standing up. Victor scowled at him. “Bye Yuri.”

“Yup.” Yuri smirked at Victor. Dumbfounded, Victor watched Yuuri dash outside, his mouth pressed into a frown and muttering about Chris.

“What just happened?”

“Told you,” said Yuri thickly through a mouthful of potato and egg, “Chris is an idiot. Haven’t you noticed-“ Yuri coughed and with difficulty managed to swallow the hastily chewed food without choking, “Lilia’s sending him away to some dump. You haven’t noticed anything because you don’t see past that huge nose of yours.”

“But... Why would Yuuri-“ Victor scrambled to his feet, but then immediately sat back down. He couldn’t leave unless there was someone else there ready to watch the screens and respond appropriately. He eyed Yuri shoveling food into his face. No, it would be stupid to leave Yuri here alone. In any case, the only answer that completed the puzzle was that Yuuri was finally leaving camp for Met-Sig, and for some reason Chris was going with him. “Shit.”

...

By the time Chris comes back from his lunch that had extended into late evening, Victor was steaming. But he kept himself in check, there was no reason to let loose on Chris. A pity. Chris wouldn’t be able to handle being cut down anyway, he was too soft too-

“I don’t want to hear it,” was the first thing out of Chris’ mouth as soon as he stumbled in, “You get to go out and have fun tonight while I’m stuck inside, working and packing. It’s not fair.” Victor realized that Chris was a little more than drunk.

 _Not fair_? Victor wanted to kick something. Instead of speaking, he allowed Chris to talk and bemoan his misfortune, listening with narrowed eyes, and only when Chris was done, did Victor speak.

“You’re not going,” he informed Chris coolly. When Chris turned to look, he found Victor frozen and posing, hands on his hips, small calculating smile on his face.

Chris cocked his head, “Excuse me?”

“If this is how you’re going to act, like a _child_ , then I’m putting my foot down. You’re not _going._ God knows how you’ll fuck everything up.”

Caught between disbelief and feeling insulted, Chris gives Victor a chance. “I don’t think that’s up to you,” said Chris, a disbelieving grin on his face, “Though it’s sweet of you to offer yourself instead.”

Victor spread his lips further, the smile turning terrifying, and advanced on his friend. “You misunderstand me. While you were fucking about, yapping about where you’re going-“

“ _Excuse me_ -!“

“- and about how life is unfair, I spoke with Lilia. _I’m_ going. You’re still doing all of the packing because I don’t know where half of the stuff we need is, but I’ve replaced you.” The smile slips off Victor’s face and Chris steps back.

Chris stares at Victor, uncomprehending of both message and intent. Victor was being downright venomous, face a cool mask of superiority that Chris was unfamiliar with- “But,” started Chris, “Why?” Although Victor was doing him a favor, there was no mistaking the contempt in that delicate face.

“Because you’re unprofessional,” said Victor coolly, his tone signaling the end of the conversation, “And while you’re by no means incompetent, Lilia agreed that I’m much better at this than you.”

...

Yuri barely gets the door to the comms building open, managing to precariously balance his plate of pilfered food while edging the door open before he’s startled by the noise bouncing down the short hallway. It takes him a moment to decipher the noise: two voices, screaming _loud_ , Victor and Chris. He lets the door swing shut. Morons. Katsuki is an idiot, but less idiotic than those two, plus there’s a kitchen in the clinic in case his food gets cold.

He bumps into Beka on the way to the clinic.

 “I thought you were going to hang out with-“

“They’re screaming at each other,” said Yuri, cutting Beka off, “ It sounded like they were going to murder each other. I’m going to share this with Katsuki instead.”

Otabek turned his head slightly, “Murder?”

“Each other,” confirmed Yuri grimly, “Victor and Chris.”

“I’m going to go check on them,” said Otabek, “If you need anything-“

“I’ll just ask Katsuki,” said Yuri, rolling his eyes, “Have fun getting drunk and being gross. Don’t worry about me.”

Otabek’s smile was soft, “Okay then. I’ll check in later.”

As predicted, Katsuki stuffed his face while Yuri briefly told him what he saw- or rather- heard.

“Wow,” said Yuuri.

“Yeah, I thought they were friends.”

“No,” said Yuuri, “Not that. Yura, I didn’t know you were such a gossip.” Yuri pelted him with a donut hole.

“Shut up.”

Yuri snooped in all of the cabinets and drawers after a brief warning not to open anything, upon pain of death. “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Yuri, “I’m not brainless. Keep your panties on.”

“Why are you so interested in my underwear Yura? Should I be concerned?” asked Yuuri mildly.

Yuri seized a pillow from an empty bed and didn’t let up on his attack until Yuuri protested that the hangover cures were going to burn. They’d been simmering all day and now Yuuri started bottling them into small vials, four ounces of detox so strong they’d make bottles of wine turn back into water.

“So what do you _think_ ,” insisted Yuri, seated on a plastic crate, watching Yuuri with feigned disinterest. “What was so fucking bad?”

Yuuri shrugged, “Ask them.” Yuri rolled his eyes.

“That’s the lame and boring answer only someone as lame and boring as you would give.”

“Ooh, burn,” said Yuuri drily.

“Piss up a rope,” snapped Yuri which made Yuuri grin. That was good, he tucked that insult away for future use.

 Yuuri finished sealing the last vial and carefully set it next to the seventy-odd others carefully arranged in a padded box. One of two boxes. “It won’t be fun travelling with him.” Yuuri sighed, meaning Chris.

The beat of silence almost strangled Yuri, “With. Him?”

Yuuri securely closed the box, “I... thought you knew? I’m leaving in a couple of days with Chris. This is it. Lilia told me this morning.”

“You fucking suck,” said Yuri after his initial shock passed, “I hope you know that.”

“If I didn’t,” said Yuuri, “Neither of us would be here.” With nothing to say to that, Yuri stomped upstairs and polished off the chocolate mousse instead of offering to share it. Katsuki can get his own fucking chocolate fucking mousse if he really wanted some. Yuri sulks until his eyes feel crusted over and without asking for permission, takes one of the hospital beds, flicking the curtain shut behind him.

“Teenagers,” muttered Yuuri, who was unsure up until two hours ago if being iced-out was really that bad, it was something that had never happened to him before. Now he knew.

...

Otabek comes in sometime before dawn but after midnight, shakes him awake.

“Hey, I need your help. Where’s Yuri?”

“Um,” Yuuri digs at his eyes, forcing himself to think, “Sleeping over there. What did you need?”

Otabek grimaces, “Need to get two surly drunks into their own beds.”

“Oh geez. Alright. Let me get my jacket.”

The party is still in high swing as they pick their way through camp.

As Yuuri feared, Otabek meant Chris and Victor. Otabek, the smug jerk, grabs Victor who is much less drunk. Which isn’t a compliment, Victor’s swaying and chattering in three different languages but trying to keep his own balance at least.

Chris is heavier, less inclined to carry his own weight, and trying to insult Victor over his shoulder.

“What is that?” asked Yuuri, “French?” Chris continues to mutter over his head, glaring at Victor.

“I think so,” said Otabek, doing _nothing_ to help Yuuri out, “Whatever he’s saying sounds nasty.” Yuuri throws Otabek a dirty look, gets a mild smile in return.

Somehow they make it to the comms building through the crowds, the party is still going strong and it’s a tribulation in getting the taller men through the crowd. More so on Yuuri’s part because Chris keeps wanting to escape.

“Why can’t he just go,” chokes out Yuuri, after the third time Chris has almost been waylaid by someone else.

“Chris wasn’t supposed to drink tonight. He drew the short straw. You brought the cure with you?” Otabek struggled to readjust his grip on Victor who was more amiable than Chris but still leaning away from Otabek, trying to walk away, insisting he was fine.

“Yes,” said Yuuri, patting his pocket. They make it to the comms building almost unscathed, Yuuri’s neck and shoulders aching. Otabek deposits Victor into a chair in the main room and helps Yuuri get Chris into his own bed after making Chris drinking the cure. But Victor refuses to move, he looks green and clutches his stomach.

“I have to go,” said Otabek, tapping his foot impatiently, “Can you take care of him?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri pats Victor’s shoulder.

“Thank you. Good night, Yuuri. Victor.”

“ ‘Night.” Yuuri sighs, gently rubs his nose.

Victor stares at Otabek coldly, slumping against Yuuri and doesn’t respond. Otabek and Yuuri shrug at each other, confused at the snub.

“What was that?” asked Yuuri, bewildered, “You like Otabek.” Victor only grunted and shook his head. “Well fine, time for bed anyway. Up.”

“I’m not staying here,” said Victor furiously.

“B-because of Chris?” stammered Yuuri. Victor sneered in affirmative, saying something so vitriolic in French that Yuuri winced, understanding the intent. “U-um, well... Okay, come on then.” Victor could comfortably sleep in one of the clinic’s beds after all.

Yuuri gingerly grabbed Victor’s shoulders, “Let’s go then. You won’t sleep here if it bothers you so much. Up.”

“Mmmm, no....” said Victor shaking his head once, twice and then stopping suddenly, his face pale. “Yes. Yes. Let’s go.” He lurched upright, and Yuuri quickly slipped an arm under him, anchoring Victor’s far shoulder.

“Careful.”

Victor rubbed his face, gamely allowing Yuuri to steer him towards the door. When he looked at Yuuri again he grinned, “Yuuri! Oh I didn’t see you! Hello!” His voice wasn’t slurred too badly, but it was clear Victor was _gone._

“Pfft. Hello Victor. How’s life?”

Victor flaps his wings and Yuuri staggers, slamming into the wall to keep their balance.

“D-don’t do that.”

“Okay!” Victor agrees amicably, and they make it outside. Almost immediately, Victor pushes away, wrenching out of his grip to vomit. “I threw up...” Victor sounded so disappointed in himself that Yuuri has to bite his lip.

“It’s okay,” said Yuuri, clenching his stomach and jaw, trying not to laugh, “Don’t worry. It- It happens.” He shouldn’t laugh. It would be mean.

 “Are we done?” asked Victor sadly, leaning heavily on the wall. Yuuri slowly leads him back towards the street.

“Yup,” said Yuuri, “Party’s over.”

“Rats. I didn’t even get to drink,” mumbled Victor, completely serious.

Oh that was too much! Yuuri laughed, leaning against Victor, patting his ribs and leading him towards the clinic.

“What?” asked Victor, “What?” He whined, leaning his weight on Yuuri.

Yuuri squeaked but managed to catch them on the bannister leading up to the clinic’s front doors. “You alright?”

“I want to brush my teeth,” said Victor. He jolts forward and Yuuri pats his shoulder, worried he’ll puke again. “Oh! I’m drunk right now, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” said Yuuri, covering his mouth, “Come on, please Victor, I can’t carry you. It’s only a little further.”

“You could if you wanted to,” declared Victor, then after a sullen silence,” I could carry you.”

“I know you can!” said Yuuri, desperate to stave off any attempts, “You already did, remember?”

“No.” said Victor spitefully, “That was different.”

“Okay, okay,” soothed Yuuri, “Just let go of my jacket. Hold my shoulder.” Victor did as instructed with one last baleful glance. Yuuri _almost_ got him into one of the beds before Victor recoiled.

“I’m not sleeping there. Absolutely not.” He buffeted Yuuri with a wing and dropped onto a chair, glaring. Yuuri rubbed his eyebrows slowly; of course Victor wouldn’t want to sleep in a _hospital_ bed, the dry antiseptic smell alone could be too much.

“You’re right, sorry. Upstairs then.” By now Victor manages to walk by himself and Yuuri snags a plastic-wrapped toothbrush and tiny toothpaste from the new patient bin for Victor. Somehow Yuuri convinces him to drink the hangover cure and brush his teeth, then steers Victor into his own room. Still crammed with excess supplies, but the bed’s clean at least. He gets a glass of water from the kitchen and a scrap of paper. He sits on the edge of his bed, scribbling out a note for Victor in the morning.

“What are you doing?” asked Victor, mouth covering a huge yawn.

“Leaving you a note,” said Yuuri, “And water. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” grumbled Victor. By the time he finishes, Victor’s out cold, snoring softly. Yuuri adds some more to his note, feeling a bit of savage glee at his additions.

...

Victor rolled over and tried grabbing both his stomach and head at the same time.

He’d been drinking.

A lot. With Chris. _Against_ Chris. A competition. Not friendly.

Where was his phone?

No, he didn’t have a phone anymore. Victor shuddered.

Where was _he?_ This wasn’t his room.

Victor sat up and his vision kept moving, kept swaying with motion that wasn’t happening. It roiled his stomach a little, looked around for a bucket but saw a glass of water. He snatched it up, dislodging a note.

“Shit,” he croaked, throat raw and sandpaper dry; he’d puked at one point, remembering it only vaguely. The water soothed his throat and the longer he sat up the less sick he felt. He picked the note up and squinted at it.

No words, that was good. Just drawings. Cutesy drawings of... Himself?

Victor squinted at the round, fat-headed figure puking into some bushes and then wobbling up some stairs.

Definitely him.

The next drawing is of him passed out in a bed with drool coming out of his mouth.

Cute. It was cute. Total libel though, he did _not_ drool.

He pocketed the scrap of paper and finished off the water, taking a minute to gather his bearings. He padded out of the room and into a familiar hallway that stretched into a dark staircase, the landing where he stood was directly opposite of a kitchen. The kitchen was also familiar, he was in the living-area of the clinic. The sink gave him plenty of cold water to drink, and belly full, Victor ambled back into bed and decided that since no one was scolding him, it was okay to continue sleeping.

...

Someone was shaking him awake, Victor mumbled a curse and turned over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” mumbled Victor, sitting up slowly, his head didn’t hurt but his stomach was sour.

“Breakfast time. Want some? Ciao Ciao and Yuri are already at the kitchen.”

Victor exhales noisily, “Bathroom?”

“You know where it is. Hurry or Yura won’t leave anything for you to eat.”

The breakfast table is crammed almost uncomfortably, even more so when Mila and Sara join them, Victor notices the long-suffering look Ciao Ciao and Yuuri share. He’s crammed between Ciao Ciao and Yuri, but with the addition of the two women, Yuri hisses and leaves the table, sitting on the counter, eating right out of the heaping pans.

Victor gets up for more food, managing to slide back into his chair without elbowing Ciao Ciao or Yuuri in the eye, tucking his legs under the seat.

They keep their voices low, murmurs of ‘more butter’ and ‘the salt’s behind the napkins, are you blind?’ are kept quiet to stave off any headache.

“I thought your cures were legendary, Yuuri,” bemoaned Sara, rubbing her temples delicately.

“Those are Ciao Ciao’s, but nothing in this world will save you if you guzzle straight ethanol,” retorted Yuuri, stung.

From the counter behind him, Yuri snickers and kicks the back of Yuuri’s chair. Yuuri looks at the ragged faces round the table and feels justified in clicking his tongue at them.

After breakfast Yuuri goes downstairs and starts sending out the vials of his hangover cure, Victor and Yuri wander downstairs soon after. Victor lingers unlike Yuri who leaves immediately.

“How bad did I get last night.”

Yuuri frowns at the question and Victor grimaces, misunderstanding.

“No- no. Not like that,” said Yuuri quickly, waving his hands frantically in the air, “You were chatty but most of it I didn’t understand, except... You were rude to Otabek?”

“Why would I do that?” Victor’s forehead creases in confusion.

“I don’t know. You didn’t feel like explaining.”

“That’s it?”

“You sound disappointed,” said Yuuri, smiling. “I’d give anything to not be an embarrassing drunk.”

Frustrated, Victor growled, “It’s not I drank that much, I just forgot to eat so-“

“All day?”

Victor’s confused at Yuuri’s horrified expression. “Yeah. Anyway, I meant to tell you earlier-“

“Nothing at all? All day?”

Really. Victor scowled at Yuuri’s interruptions.

Yuuri mutters under his breath, shakes his head.

“Didn’t catch that,” said Victor, palming his chin, smile plastic.

Yuuri sighs at the reflexive bite back. “Yuri said you and Chris-“

“Argued.”

“ _Screaming_ is not arguing,” pointed out Yuuri, “What happened?”

Yuuri doesn’t really expect an answer so he’s not surprised when Victor’s scowl deepens. Victor isn't sure how to tell Yuuri that he’ll be going to the slums instead of Chris without having to explain the argument. It sounds too weird.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

“When did you get so mouthy,” asks Victor, his ridiculous white eyebrows climbing high.

Yuuri barks out a laugh, “No comment.”

Looking intrigued, Victor levels a finger at him, but thinks better of whatever he’s about to say. Just pulls back and waves before leaving. That’s good because Yuuri was less than an instant from swatting Victor’s finger away from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o  
> :)
> 
> Edit: I am so sorry but I realized that I had to fix some things. Nothing plot related, but writing style.


	17. Daybreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should use the gif of mushu coming back to life.  
> Thanks for coming back to read this, I've had a few rough months.  
> Long story short I've been juggling school and work,  
> and then my dog got sick and I thought she would get  
> better, but she didn't. So I was just a mess for a while.  
> Hopefully I'll be able to write more often and post sooner  
> now that I've allowed some time to grieve.
> 
> I'm planning on finishing up Thwarted ASAP because it's starting  
> to annoy me, just sitting there on my computer unfinished.  
> And then I'll have time to edit and post chapter 2 of Swordeater ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).
> 
> Thanks for your patience! Please enjoy Yuuri and Victor trying  
> to be nice to one another.

Victor manages to stumble home without incident, because although breakfast is comfortably reducing his nausea to almost nothing, he still wants to lie down for a few hours before the convoy arrives. The camp is quiet, mist curling around Victor’s ankles. There are few people up and even fewer of those look put-together, however Otabek is made of stronger stuff because he’s waiting for Victor right outside the comms building, looking as fresh as a spring breeze. Not a hint of their drunken shenanigans to be seen in the cool measuring gaze.

“Victor.” His voice is cool, touched with displeasure.

“Ah, Otabek! You don’t look hungover, I’m impressed. Where’s your shadow?”

Instead of acknowledging Victor’s banter, Otabek quietly asked. “Are you done packing? The caravan arrives at dusk. In a few hours.”

“Affirmative,” said Victor, eyes dancing to keep the mood light. “I made sure Chris had packed everything before getting too drunk. We had a fun little discussion, I’m assuming you heard about it?”

“I did,” said Otabek gravely, now scowling, “And I don’t think it’s funny. But... Lilia _did_ finalize the change. You’ll be going instead.”

Victor smiled, pleased with how everything worked out. He’ll get to be in a _city_ again, no more shitty backwater camps with its gossiping and dearth of privacy. All Victor wants is privacy. To have somewhere to rest and not worry about being scrutinized.

“I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done.”

“I am.”

Otabek actually frowns, breaking his neutral face but says nothing, “I wish you’d explain why...”

“Don’t waste your other two wishes,” snapped Victor, “Now excuse me, I’m still kind of drunk.” He brushed past Otabek into the comms building, not surprised to find the main chair empty. After checking to make sure no disasters had occurred, Victor went to find Chris.

Since the main chair was empty, Victor headed into the living areas. After receiving no response to his polite knocking, Victor quietly entered Chris’ room and is struck dumb.

Chris is lying naked on his stomach, head hanging off the edge of the bed. He looked so at ease. Chris has striking wings, dark brown for the most part but striped in bright yellows at the tips. And it’s not that Victor’s attracted to Chris, but he’s never seen someone so comfortable in their own skin, no avian at least. And to see Chris spread-eagle, wings fluttering in his dreams, no worry in the world except the oncoming hangover...

Victor’s throat closes up and his eyes blur.

When Yuri comes looking, wondering why the radios are unmanned, he shrieks at Victor for being a pervert and slams the door shut. Of course it wakes Chris, who finds Victor sitting on the floor, petting his head, holding out one of Yuuri’s hangover cures.

“Thought I’d made it clear that we weren’t speaking.” Chris blinks at him and snatches the hangover cure out of Victor’s hand, tipping it down his throat. Chris’ eyes smart as the drink unkindly detoxes his blood, resupplying electrolytes.

Victor dearly wants to say something biting, but... “I only came to apologize. And to make sure you didn’t drown in your own puke.”

Chris just rolls onto his back and Victor quickly averts his gaze. “And what. Getting a show is your bonus? Or are you trying to tell me something.”

“No,” Victor laughs quietly, he mulls on his words so long that Chris cranes his head to catch Victor’s eyes. “Let me ask you something first. Were you born out here?”

“Outside the city walls?” Chris is too weak and too interested in where Victor is headed to resist the question, “Yes. I’ve never stepped foot inside the infamous Metropolis-Sigma. Or any Metropolis.”

“My entire life I’ve been hiding,” said Victor, resting his chin on the edge of the bed, “And you! You sleep naked! Honestly, it’s galling.”

Chris wastes no time in scrambling off the bed to hug Victor, squeezing him.

“You should try it,” whispers Chris, “It’s very liberating.” He ignores Victor’s pathetic attempts at laughter, rubs his back, apologizing when it’s too hard on Victor’s ruined skin.

“You should see Katsuki about your back,” said Chris, leaning back, “He could probably do something.”

“Probably,” echoed Victor, “Do you want to see?”

“Oh yes! You know I’m a slut for gossip.”

Not giving himself time to regret the offer, Victor strips out of his sweater and Chris swears so vehemently that Victor feels like a child showing off a scabbed knee. Like his injuries are a badge.

Gently, Chris runs a finger along the biggest groove, “Katsuki would go wild if he knew just how bad these are.”

“Mm.”

“Too proud for your own good,” tutted Chris, “Put your shirt back on floozy, I haven’t had breakfast and you have to help me get dressed.”

“ _Excuse me_ —?” 

...

After they get chewed out by Yuri, Victor leaves both him and Chris there, promising to bring back lunch.  While standing in line with two trays in hand, Victor catches Yuuri’s eye and remembers that Yuuri doesn’t know about the switch. He forgoes grabbing food in favor of marching over to him.

“Hi Yuuri.” Smiling brightly he takes the chair opposite of Yuuri.

“Um, hi. Feeling better?” Yuuri gives Ciao Ciao a nervous look, but Ciao Ciao just shrugs, equally mystified by Victor.

“Yes, I just came over to say that Chris isn’t going to the slums with you. It’s me. We switched.” He claps his hands happily.

“What?” Instead of a smile, Yuuri’s expression flattens and he seems to disengage for a moment. Just as abruptly he seems to figure out how to feel because he sucks in a deep breath, “Why would you do something like that?”

Caught off-guard, Victor frowns, “I’m tired of being here. It’s too small. The slums at least will—Why are you so upset?”

“You mean,” said Yuuri, trying to catch his breath, “That you’re going because you want to? And not any other reason?”

“Yes. What’s your problem?”

“N-nothing. I’m glad you get to go. Excuse me.” Seeming to forget all about his lunch, Yuuri gets up and flees the mess hall.

Ciao Ciao gives Victor a searing look, which he ignores in favor of following Yuuri outside, shoving past the hungry crowds queuing up for hot food.

“Hey, wait just a second. What just happened?” When Victor tried to grab is arm, Yuuri flinched like he was about to be struck, making Victor backpedal, hands up in surrender.

“Nothing happened!” said Yuuri, holding his wrist as if Victor had wrenched it, “I was just startled by what you said. Chris and I had talked about—Never mind, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

That brought Victor up short, his apology for trying to grab Yuuri evaporating on his tongue, “You two had it all figured out huh? A fun little trip. Sorry to break up that little dream.” Victor was surprised at how venomous he felt.

Red splotches bloomed on Yuuri’s cheeks, “I’ll bet you are. I’m glad you apologized to Chris, he doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit, you know.”

They were making a scene and Victor hated it, this wasn’t supposed to be a scene. He was supposed to be making amends or—Victor didn’t even know. But he and Yuuri were supposed to be past this nonsense. “This is exactly why I want to leave. How the hell do you even know that? I spoke to him only a few hours ago.”

The look Yuuri gave him intimated that he thought Victor had worms wriggling around his skull. “It took Chris less than three minutes to tell someone what you did. That you were watching him naked. That you showed off your scars.”

“ _What?”_ Victor almost screamed. “I’m going to _kill_ him—”

Moving with surprising speed, Yuuri got in front of Victor. “He didn’t do it to spite you, just like you didn’t decide to swap places with Chris to—to mess with me.”

Victor decided he’d had enough of being gawked at, moving slowly enough to give Yuuri time to get out of the way, Victor ushered him away from the breakfast crowd. “They really need TVs out here,” muttered Victor. Once they were out of sight and hearing he asked Yuuri, “Answer me honestly, do you still think I’m trying to mess with you?”

“I—” First he twisted his fingers together, then Yuuri’s shoulders came up, defensive. “ I’m sorry for making such a mess of things. I don’t know why I do that.” Frustrated, Yuuri dragged a hand through his hair. “Anyway, if you want Chris to stop talking about you, you need to tell him yourself.”

Victor wanted to ask if Yuuri’s negative reactions were prompted by the anxiety or Victor himself, but Victor figured it was a bit of both. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

...

The caravan rumbled into camp ten cars strong and with well-oiled axles running silently through the forest. It was a freezing cold evening, the unexpected shift in weather sending everyone running for their winter gear. Yuuri was bundled up in a thick coat, his wine-red scarf wrapped snuggly around his neck. The scarf was a little worse for wear, a little more threadbare, but still did a good job of blocking out the aching wind.

After all of the heavy lifting was done Yuuri and Mila huddled together, waiting for Lilia and the commander of the convoy to finish talking shop. A small duffel bag hung from Yuuri’s shoulders, packed with clothes and a lunch. Ciao Ciao loomed behind them, glowering. His disapproval kept Yuuri’s back warm and his ears hot.

He hugged Mila tightly, “Call me if you have any questions.”

“Will do. Stay safe. Come back, yeah?”

“Okay.” It was an empty promise from Yuuri, he had no idea if he’d be given a chance to keep it.

Then there was Ciao Ciao.

Resigned to getting yelled at in front of everyone, heart beating down low in his stomach, Yuuri turned towards his mentor.

“Celestino...”

“Don’t. Don’t think that I’m angry at you. Good luck out there.” And before Yuuri could wonder what exactly that meant, Ciao Ciao gave him a brief hug. “Be safe Yuuri. Try to make some friends, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Yuuri wetly, “Thanks Ciao Ciao.” He let go and then clambered into the back of a flat bed truck with ten other people crammed in there. Although the bed was covered with a tarp roof there was no door except for the tailgate. Yuuri crammed himself into the corner, relieved at having access to fresh air. Victor joins him shortly, looking tired but devoid of any emotion. His wings are carefully tucked down, but still shift restlessly when the rest of him is still.

“Are you alright?” Nervously, Yuuri picked at his scarf, he didn’t dare look at Victor. Not after the scene he caused earlier.

“I’m alright,” replied Victor flatly, settling down next to Yuuri. The reply is too quick, and he looks surprised Yuuri is even talking at him. It’s a horrible way to start their journey.

Yuuri drops his head onto his knees and groans.

“Don’t tell me you get carsick,” said Victor, gingerly digging his elbow into Yuuri’s arm.

With more relief than the situation warrants, Yuuri laughs. He’s relieved Victor isn’t giving him the cold shoulder. “No. I was worried you’d be mad at me over what happened today at breakfast. And I was afraid this was going to be more miserable than when we walked to the slums. Sorry.”

Victor grunts, “I don’t know which would be worse, I hated the walking. And you can stop saying sorry. You didn’t do anything. This time.”

The truck rumbles to life and Yuuri cranes his neck to wave before the truck lurches onward and they’re gone, hidden by a screen of trees. He drops back into his seat, sighing. “I was apologizing for freaking out.”

“Hm. It’s understandable.” Victor couches his cheek on a bent knee, “We—I mean I—haven’t been the nicest.” Victor can’t help but to grin at the face Yuuri makes. “Yuuri if I have to be stuck in this truck for a whole day could you at least make a different face?”

Immediately Yuuri whips his face away, annoyance and embarrassment warring for his attention. “Maybe.”

The silence is awkward and Yuuri buries his face into the duffel bag resting on his legs, wishing he could just sleep until they get to the slums. Then he can put some distance between himself and Victor, not have to look at that sad face.

Disappointed but unsurprised, Victor settles in to chat with his neighbor instead of trying to draw Yuuri back into a conversation. An old woman named Concha told Victor all about her garden and her grandchildren, and how her bones couldn’t take the humid cold anymore which is why she was headed back into the city. The woman’s wings creak and pop every time she moves them, the feathers looking threadbare but retain an iridescent black shine. They chat until the sun disappears and the mountainous forest turns dark and foreboding.

“And you have family in the slums?” asked Victor, trying to suppress a yawn. They’re heading up a rough mountainous road. Their truck lurched and Victor caught Concha from tumbling headfirst onto the floor, they also bumped into Yuuri who grumbled in his sleep but settled back down over his duffel bag.

“My grandson and his wife,” replied the old woman, “Now you look like a good place to nap, do you mind, young man? It’s freezing.”

“Not at all,” said Victor brightly. He’s bemused when the old woman tugs on his closest wing so it extends around her like a blanket. “Warm enough?” he teases her.

She rests her head on Victor’s shoulder and grunts, “When you get to be my age a spring breeze is too much. Not to mention this blasted cold snap.”

“ _If_ I get to be your age,” murmured Victor, thinking he wouldn’t be overheard.

“You will,” rasped Yuuri on his other side. Startled and with a slumbering grandmother under his wing, Victor could only turn his head.

Yuuri blinked up at him, still fuzzy with sleep, “I’ll make sure of it,” and then he promptly collapsed back over his duffel bag, fast asleep and drooling.

“Incredible,”  whispered Victor, and settled in, determined to sleep even for a few hours. The night air on his face felt nice only because the flat bed was full of warm bodies keeping the area toasty.

Victor is woken by a painful grip on his arm and someone _shoving_ him deeper into the flatbed. Concha squeaks, her wings catching his ribs and chin. Victor struggled upright, trying to move away. But the flat bed offered no space. “Wha—Yuuri? What’s—”

Then Victor saw what the problem was, they were rumbling on a thin road on the side of a mountain, the wheels skidding over the edge of a dark abyss. The flat bed lurched and one of the wheels actually skidded over the side, Yuuri yelped and leapt to the floor of the truck, eyes wide and breathing hard.

Concha batted Victor’s arm away and cackled, reaching out to pat Yuuri’s head. “Afraid of a little freefall, young man?”

Yuuri turned his huge eyes up to them, he was shaking.

“Come up here,” said Victor, “Worst case scenario is we fall out. I’ll just fly you to the ground.”

It produced no effect on Yuuri who was frozen in fear, eyes unseeing except whatever nightmare his head conjured.

Victor moved to kneel down next to Yuuri, “Hey, don’t you trust me?”

 _That_ got Yuuri to move, he allowed Victor to tug him back onto the bench.

“Can’t believe that worked on you.”

Looking dazed, Yuuri snorted, but it was a weak protest. “You didn’t drop me before, and our friendship has only grown from there.”

“Look at you,” said Victor, grinning widely, “ If you’re coherent enough to sass me then you’re alright.” At that moment the truck lurched again and Yuuri went rigid when the abyss loomed close and empty under their noses. Victor quickly looped an arm around Yuuri’s neck, letting his arm hang loose over Yuuri’s chest. “Okay, I take that back. Can you start breathing please? I get nervous when people around me don’t breathe.”

Thankfully, Yuuri managed to take a couple of steady, if shallow, breaths. “When did you get so nice? It’s giving me whiplash.”

Victor retaliated with a sharp slap to Yuuri’s stomach that made him yelp. “Maybe I just don’t feel like dealing with you being a mess.”

“F-fair enough.”

“Good. Now am I permitted to go back to sleep? I don’t fancy arriving at the slums sleep-deprived.”

To Victor’s surprise, Yuuri clutched at his arm, “Just don’t let go.”

“Fine. Just don’t yank my arm off.”

He was tired enough that neither Concha’s snoring on his right nor Yuuri’s trembling on his left could keep him awake. The small lurches the truck made were a little disconcerting to Victor, it felt like the trundling of a gurney. Still.

He slept.

...

“Hey, wake up. We’re here.”

It was an unpleasant way to wake up, Victor’s neck was bent and tight. His back was spasming, making his wings twitch and beat weakly without his permission. The ghost of antiseptics and whiff of blood filled his nose, stinging his nose and eyes.

“Hey... Hey, you’re okay. Here, take this. Victor—”

Victor gasped, shooting upright, right into Yuuri’s arms. He withdrew the next instant, banging his head into the bare metal beam of the flat bed.

“Shit! What do you think you’re doing?” Victor scrambled away, unable to catch his breath, the edges of his vision spotting. There was something wrong with his breathing, it wasn’t enough. And that _damn_ smell of antiseptics was making him nauseous.

“Breathe Victor. Here. Feel. In. Out. Slow. Hold it. Hold. In...” Yuuri grabbed his hand and placed it over Victor’s chest, “And out.” Victor struggled to match what he felt under his palm. “Come on Victor, you were telling _me_ not to panic last night. Now you’re pulling this crap?”

“Not the same,” gasped Victor, disoriented, “My traumas. Will. Eventually. Resolve. You have. That.” Victor curled his fingers into Yuuri’s shirt where the anti-anxiety patch was glued to Yuuri’s skin.

“You’re right,” said Yuuri ruefully, “Keep breathing though or do you _want_ to pass out in front of everyone. No don’t look around. We’re alone right now. Just keep breathing and then you’re going to take these pain pills. Okay?”

Victor squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

“But first,” said Yuuri briskly, “Here. Take a sniff.” Without warning he stuck a small cotton pouch under Victor’s nose. The scent of coffee cleared Victor’s head, he took his hand away from Yuuri’s chest to grab the bag of fragrant beans.

“How’s your head. You hit it pretty hard.” Yuuri took a seat next to him.

“Fine,” dismissed Victor, taking another clarifying breath of roasted coffee. It helped settle his stomach as well. “Where are those drugs you promised me, hm?”

After downing the pills with a sip of water, Victor relaxed against Yuuri, feeling he deserved some creature comforts. And miraculously, Yuuri didn’t move. He seemed content to simply sit there allowing Victor to lean on him. “You’re a pushover,” said Victor, leaning further on Yuuri, wondering where the line was.

“Am I now,” asked Yuuri without much concern.

“Mm. It’s quite sad.” Victor took another breath of coffee and then felt guilty enough to ask. “Am I heavy?”

“I don’t mind,” said Yuuri placidly.

Victor lifted his head, “Weeks—No, _days_ ago you would have reacted differently.”

Yuuri patted his hand, not bothering to point out that right now Victor needed _someone_ to remain calm for him. Instead he continued the banter, “Ah see, look how far I’ve come. Do you feel better yet? The driver of the truck is antsy to be off again.”

With a shake of his wings, Victor tested out his back and was pleased to feel no shuddering spasms and even the crick in his neck was loosened a bit. “What. Were you just going to drag me out of here if I didn’t move?”

“I could.”

“Could not.”

“I’m stronger than you think. But I know you don’t like making a fuss.”

“Which is surprising,” said Victor, standing up but having to stoop in the low-hanging ceiling, “I used to love making a fuss.”

“You don’t say...” Yuuri hopped off the truck, “Come on. Our guide is waiting.”

The late morning sun was warm on his back, the parking lot where the convoy had stopped large enough to accommodate much more than the ten trucks. The parking lot was a structure several stories tall, Victor guessed they had driven in through some under ground tunnel so as to not attract attention. “This place is big.” Victor let his voice echo through the concrete place, “In relation to the city, where are we?”

“No idea. But according to Concha it’s attached to what used to be a Buy ‘n’ Large Mart.

“Ugh, I hate those stores.”

“You and everyone who makes over a hundred grand a year,” said Yuuri tartly.

Stunned, Victor huffed. “I... well... Fair enough. What has gotten _into_ you today.”

Yuuri bent to pick up his bag. “I might get to go home soon,” he murmured so no one else could hear.

“Lilia said that to you?” Victor stepped closer, curiosity flaring to life, “When? Are you sure?”

“I don’t think she would have said anything unless there was a real possibility, right? I’m not sure when.”

“Agreed,” said Victor, tapping his lips, “Huh...” If their ‘guide’ hadn’t interrupted the conversation at that moment, Victor would have grilled Yuuri about it. Everyone had been so secretive about it that Victor would have given up several fingers to know everything.

“Hey you two, unless we’re waiting for someone else can we get going? I’m starving.”

Yuuri winced at the icy look Victor turns on the boy. “Be nice,” he scolds and Victor rears back because suddenly Yuuri has all this spunk and ????

“I honestly don’t know what to do with you,” said Victor, crossing his arms, he scrutinizes Yuuri carefully. “I’m... confused.”

Yuuri sets his jaw, embarrassed but unwilling to let go of the feeling from earlier. Of having Victor be nice to him, treat him like... if not a friend, then at least not like an enemy. “Must be the new surroundings.”

Still, Victor looks at him suspiciously. “Must be.”

“Can we _go_.” Leo slid in front of them, very much looking like a starving teenager.

They followed Leo into the ruined city, past bombed buildings and cracked asphalt.

“I can’t believe they did this to their own city,” murmured Yuuri, looking around.

“Me neither,” said Victor, “It’s tragic for so many old buildings to be destroyed. All that history. I’m surprised you think it tragic. Thought you’d think it was right and good. The cleansing.”

That comment froze Yuuri’s blood, his ears rang. He stumbled to a halt, not quite believing Victor could be so— “Why,” asked Yuuri dully, “Why. We were doing so good.”

Victor stopped and looked guilty, “I just meant—”

 “Y-you shouldn’t h-have said that,” said Yuuri, gripping his bag tightly. “ _Why_...”

Although Yuuri stammers, Victor can see that he’s mad. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you were over my good opinion.”

That made Yuuri angrier, he pressed his lips closed and started walking away. Leo seemed relieved he didn’t have to intervene this time and glared at Victor.

“What was that about?” Leo trotted to catch up with Yuuri. “Listen, if he’s being an asshole I can just drop you off at the hospital. You’re the new medic, right? It’s still being set up by the new people and there should be food there.”

 _And beds_ , thought Yuuri with a bit of vindictive pleasure. “Yes. I need that. Thank you.”

“Sure. _Katsuki_ Yuuri, right?”

“Uhm, yes. How did you know?”

Leo grinned at him, bright and young. “You’ll see.”

The words were ominous but Leo’s eyes crinkled into half moons with a smile and Yuuri relaxed.

...

The hospital was underground, hidden, tucked between two rubbled buildings. The basements repurposed for the sick. “It’s....”

“Trashed,” said Leo, “But that’s why we’ve got so many people working on it. You’re supposed to help make it... usable.”

“It’s filthy,” said Victor, trailing behind them, “Why are we here? I thought you were hungry. And—”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Leo, he nudged Yuuri towards the doors of the hospital, “Go on. Don’t be nervous.”

Yuuri wonders how Leo knows he would be nervous, but says nothing. He also doesn’t say good bye to Victor.

It’s dark and oppressive inside. There are no windows so whatever light blooms comes from portable electric lanterns or overhead fluorescents. But the place is a mess, scaffolding everywhere sacks of unopened cement in tall stacks. The place was a dump.

Inexplicably, Yuuri felt excited. This was going to be back-breaking work, but he still felt excited. The warm feeling bubbling up through his stomach as he stepped through the large entrance, “Hello?” His voice echoed.

“Come on in! We’re over here, sorry for the mess. Just follow my voice.”

Yuuri followed the voice into a side hallway, it was brighter here, the floors were swept. And stepped into a room with about twenty other people, both avians and humans. The woman who talked to him stood near the door, smiling.

“Um... Hi. I’m—”

“Yuuri!” Kenjirou shrieked and threw himself into Yuuri’s arms, “I hoped and wished so much!”

Caught off guard, Yuuri could only catch the boy in his arms and a face-full of feathers too. “It’s good to see you too.”

Kenjirou grabbed his hand and tugged him into the room. There were too many people for Yuuri to remember all of their names, but he took special care to remember the chief medic’s name.

“Yuuri this is Yunue.” Kenjirou bounced on his toes, “She’s super smart!”

Yunue laughed, “Goodness! It feels like I already know you, Yuuri. This one never stops talking about you, you’ve got _a lot_ to prove.”

Great. Yuuri gulped, “I’ll do my best. I just want to do a good job. This place still needs a lot of work.”

“That it does,” Yunue motioned for Yuuri and Kenjirou to follow. “I’ll give you a tour. Do you know where you’re going to be living.”

“Um. No.”

“Did anyone else come with you? What about Mila? She was nice.”

Yuuri shook his head, “No it’s just me and Victor.”

“Oh, he’s... nice too.”

Yuuri gently bit on his tongue to stop from smiling. Yunue lead them through the building pointing out where she wanted to implement an emergency bay, a birthing floor, and where they should keep medicines to prevent stealing or misuse. She also lead them to the back of the building where a large hole, twice as tall as Yuuri opened onto a tunnel.

“What is this?” Carefully he stepped through the hole into the tunnel, wet and vaguely mossy air pushed his hair back. “Where does it lead.”

“It’s an escape tunnel,” said Yunue somberly. “In case.”

Throat tight, Yuuri nodded, “I understand.” Troubled by the tunnel and what it could mean if Met-Sig authorities descended on them, Yuuri missed most of the conversation between Kenjirou and Yunue.

“Hey.”

Startled by the warm hand on his shoulder, Yuuri snapped his head up, meeting Yunue’s dark eyes. “It’s just in case.”

Yuuri looked at Kenjirou, “I left my luggage in the front entrance, can you bring it please?” He turned back to Yunue, “But it could. And if there are patients. Ones that we can’t move. And if they’re avian...” Yuuri swallowed, “We’d be leaving them to their death. Soldiers won’t hesitate to— to shoot them.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” said Yunue firmly, “Nothing. Do you understand?”

The taste of bile and acid was unpleasant, it burned Yuuri’s throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

Yunue’s soft gaze never wavered, “That’s good. I think you’ve been introduced to everyone... Ah, except the Okukawas.”

“The _who_?” Yuuri’s mouth went dry, heart rate punching up into his throat.

Confused by his outburst, Yunue dropped her hand. “The woman and her daughter funding this. That’s their family name. They’re um—from the European Union, they’re infamous. God knows where they get the money from. But they’re very devoted to helping avians. There’s no need to worry about outsiders betraying—”

“No, no of course not. Sorry, I just—I apologize.” Yuuri was relieved to see Kenjirou arrive with the duffel bag. “Ah, thank you.” _Okukawa is a common name,_ he scolded himself, _it’s been more than a decade_. Kenjirou grabbed his hand unexpectedly, “Come on! We’ll figure out where you’re sleeping later.”

 


End file.
